


Number one fan

by EnlacingLines



Series: Stealing hearts and cases [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Background Sumitaba, Biting, Burlesque, First Dates, Gentle Sex, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Pining, Pole Dancing, Praise Kink, Scratching, Sexting, Switching, Undercover, background MakoHaru, yes despite the previous tags this is sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27842368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlacingLines/pseuds/EnlacingLines
Summary: “He means pole dancing, doesn’t he. Did you...did you get distracted by a pole dancer?” she says, with such absolute horror tinged with amusement that he ends up forgetting himself completely and snarling at her.“I did not get distracted, the suspect left when I was informed I had to sit down,” he hisses, and Yusuke’s eyes widen while Makoto’s mouth twitches.“Sit down to do what, exactly?” she says----Goro has a suspect to catch and a reputation as an upcoming detective to maintain.Getting distracted by a dancer with a terrible stage name is not part of that plan.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Stealing hearts and cases [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067363
Comments: 46
Kudos: 261
Collections: Marigolds Discord Recs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well. I came up with this random idea in October, tried to write a one shot and decided I couldn't leave it there and now it's...3 chapters. And possibly a whole AU. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to MxTicketyBoo who did not shut down my initial one sentence idea, has listen to me yell about this for weeks and betaed everything. You are the best <3
> 
> Although this fic is rated E, smut isn't until chapter 3. This is just...M-ish for Goro's thirsty brain.

“It’s been right there in front of us, he’s clearly communicating with his contacts in Shinjuku,” Goro hisses and Makoto screws her eyes shut, then opens them slowly, possibly in some effort to inject some wakefulness. 

Goro can understand that. He really needs some eye drops, or to start wearing his glasses. Neither of which he’ll do, but it’s the thought that counts. He’s not actually sure how long they’ve been working with minimal sleep, but it’s been a while. 

“Yes, that does seem obvious now we’ve caught most of that group. I think he may have his fingers in more pies than we thought,” she says, her voice cracking a bit, but with that clear hint of excitement which is also currently keeping him going. 

It’s not always easy working with the Nijimas, but at the end of the day, Makoto is excellent at what she does, not that he’d ever tell her. And while Sae runs their department, the two of them have been working on this case solely for months. And after a heavy questioning of someone in Kaneshiro’s inner circle, they think they might have something to pin on him. 

Goro has always thought there was something more to this than just extortion. Of course, the targets were high profile with something to hide, but there’s an undercurrent of more, of an operation that spreads wider, potentially impacting more of their cases. 

They need this. Goro is known already in the department, mainly for cracking an extremely high profile case as an intern when he was sixteen years old. The problem is, they still, almost eight years later, wheel him out whenever they need a spokesperson, a pretty face to go with justice of the city. 

It felt good to get that as a teen, who came from nothing and was sudden the hope of the capital. He’s not above admitting he has a horrible tendency to chase after affection, a habit which has not served him well in life, and still hasn’t truly worked out how to stop doing it. But, if he could actually get a good, relevant case under his belt again, they’d have to stop pedalling him out as the media darling and take him as seriously as they do other colleagues. 

Makoto, in many ways, has similar problems. Her sister rose through the ranks like wildfire, and no matter how good she genuinely is, she’s always treated as Nijima the second. They both need this win, and it’s been mostly easy to set aside differences and work themselves into early graves to do this. 

Well. Mostly. Makoto, it seems, doesn’t think his idea of bar hopping is a good one. 

“You have no idea where he’ll be, so simply going into bars, which makes you look more suspicious. Plus you’re wearing...that,” she says. 

“What is wrong with my attire?” he says, considering he’s wearing the same crisp (well, less than crisp now the hours have passed), white shirt and dark formal pants he normally dons for work. 

“Nothing, just you do not look like you should be in a Shinjuku bar. Let’s just see what we can dig up tomorrow, and then we might have a lead. Tomorrow’s Friday, it’s a good time for a stakeout,” she says. 

He can’t fault that logic unfortunately, so they agree to bring their evidence to Sae in the morning. Goro almost wishes he could sleep at the office, the whole going home just to return again seems like a waste of time and energy. But he stumbles to the train, tries not to fall asleep, almost misses his stop and returns to his small, sterile set of rooms. He can’t remember the last time he spent time in here which wasn’t to shower or sleep, and he doesn’t much care. Goro can worry about his lack of social life after he’s cracked this case. If ever. 

It’s a catch 22: Goro spends most of his time working, so doesn’t have time to make friends, or date anyone. Yet even if he did have a social circle or a boyfriend, he’d most likely promptly lose them, as he spends most of his time working and his spare time dealing with the mess that on occasion tries to spill from his own brain, so he’s quite frankly unavailable in most senses. 

But he’s mostly happy. He has one friend from high school who is just as busy as he is, so their ideals of how relationships work align perfectly, and a couple of work colleagues who have somehow wormed their way into more, and one of them is Makoto, whom he cannot decide what to define as. But when he makes his way into the office, with slightly more sleep and a shower under his belt, he is ever so grateful for her existence, seeing as she brings him coffee, pastries and a meeting set up with Sae at eleven. 

“Where did you get these? They’re amazing,” he asks, having finished almost all his pastry before she’s even started eating. 

“A recommendation from Si-Sae actually. It’s on my way to work. Coffee managed to stay hot too,” she adds, and Goro nods in thanks again, mentally recording the need to ask her for more details later, when he doesn’t have to prepare for the day. 

It’s hard to tell what Sae thinks, even after years of working with her, so after they present their findings, he waits in tense silence until she looks up at both of them. 

“A bar? Well, there’s a few possibilities, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Do not engage though. We have a suspect list, make sure to take a look at the profiles before you go. And report to me when you’re done. I’ll have a team on standby if you don’t check in,” Sae adds, and Goro exhales in relief as he leaves her office. 

“You’ll still need a new outfit,” Makoto adds, and he glares at her as she doesn’t bother to hide the smug smile. 

Sae sends them four bars to check out between them this evening, mentioning this is just an information operation, so they both know they don’t have permission to do anything bold. She looks at Goro the whole time, and he stares right back. He’d never compromise an operation by doing anything rash, they all know this, but he has occasionally done things which are hard to justify to their superiors. 

Seeing as they’ll be out late, he and Makoto finish early, but Goro pops out to the convenience store, buys two bentos and heads over to the profiling department. He’s pretty sure he recalls the suspects, but it’s always best to check, and besides, it’s a chance to see Yusuke. 

He’s not disappointed, for when he arrives on the fifth floor, he’s in full flow with a woman who looks entirely confused, which is the usual fare when the public has to encounter Yusuke Kitagawa. 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she says, as Goro drops himself in a chair nearby. 

“The aura of the man who took your bag, just a few words is what I need. The colour, the taste of it, did it shine, did it pulse? Any details will help me finish the sketch,” he says with a flourish of the pencil in his hand, and Goro’s mouth twitches upwards. 

“He umm...I think the sneakers were red?” she tries, and Yusuke gives her a scathing look, so Goro chooses that moment to intervene, clearing his throat. 

Yusuke spins, smiling brightly. “Ah Detective, so good to see you,” he turns back to the woman before him. “Please give me a moment. And think on that aura,” he adds, and she makes a sort of helpless noise as Yusuke stands. 

The fact that Yusuke’s profiles are so eerily correct is the only reason he still has a job. It’s just difficult getting him to actually make the piece, seeing as he’s both a perfectionist and so utterly strange he makes Goro feel like a normal member of society. 

Goro takes the bento as Yusuke leads them out of the office to a small room usually set aside for private interviews, before he’s swept into a somewhat bony hug, immediately tensing up. Hugs. Not a thing he’s good at, but Yusuke is oddly affectionate, and also probably can see Goro has food with him. He manages to force himself to uncurl, hugging Yusuke back for a beat before breaking free. 

“Goro, it’s been far too long, how's the case?” he says, and Goro smiles, excitement brewing. 

“We should be having a breakthrough tonight, I wanted to stop by and look at the profiles from the questioning session last week,” he says. 

“Of course, of course, let me find them,” he says, striding over to the computer, giving Goro the well worn bemoaning of the way the quality of his sketches is permanently ruined by being scanned into the database, which apparently makes the image unrecognisable. 

Goro however, just scans the sketches of three extremely detailed individuals who are thought to be part of Kaneshiro’s inner circle in the extortion case, amazed Yusuke’s even managed to detail precise freckle numbers and nose hairs, as he explains what will be happening tonight. 

“You’re going to Crossroads? Oh, I see, you’re going home to change, a good plan. Do be careful though, I have memories of that place,” he says, the second part preventing Goro from once again wondering what the hell is wrong with his clothes. 

“Why were you in Crossroads?” he says, and Yusuke shakes his head. 

“I once had a hankering for the more gritty depths to painting. I’ve been once, an enlightening experience with ample subject matter. I still have my pieces from that time, you must come see,” he says, and Goro shakes his head in amusement. 

“Why not. But let’s go to lunch once I’ve finished this case,” he says, and Yusuke immediately agrees, then hugs Goro again as he hands over the bento, reminding Yusuke firmly to eat today. 

As they exit, the woman looks up, and nervously stutters. “I-I think it was...desperate?” 

“Desperation, yes! An aura of that magnitude truly changes the piece. Ah, I must get to work, but Go-Detective Akechi, please do inform me when you get home from your stakeout, I will worry otherwise,” he says, and Goro rolls his eyes even as the fondness seeps, strange and rare, through his chest. 

Unfortunately, too many comments regarding his attire put him in a conundrum as 10PM arrives. Having slept and eaten, he stares at his wardrobe wondering what on earth someone who frequents these types of places would wear, but is not so low as to ask Makoto or Yusuke. Neither are experts in fashion, so he doesn’t trust their judgement, but he should actually wear something different from the office. 

He probably won’t be recognised at such an establishment, but there’s the odd chance someone will; he’s not truly the best choice for a stakeout, so he changes up his look somewhat. Pulls on a dark shirt, which is a little small nowadays, but it’s fine to go with jeans. He ties his hair up, which he normally only does for climbing, but it manages to change his face somewhat that he’s not so recognisable. On a whim, he does a little more makeup than usual, adding some eyeliner, which is a little shakier than usual having not bothered in so long. 

It will do. He hopes, anyway. He doesn’t want to end up causing any issues simply because he’s recognised. But the whole point is to stay inconspicuous anyway, so he’ll probably only stay for as long as is necessary. As he gets on the train, slight nerves buzzing from the unfamiliar activity, Makoto checks in to inform him she’s entering her first location.

Goro arrives in Shinjuku less than twenty minutes later, heading straight for the first bar, making his way through the crowds, grimacing slightly when people push against him, already inebriated. He’s thankful for his dark jacket, again not his usual attire, and customary gloves, the leather the only comfort of his usual facade. They both protect him somewhat against the touch of strangers, which reminds him again of why he doesn’t normally go to any type of bar. 

This is going to be a long night. 

His first place on the list turns out to be a clear bust. Strawberry Moon is about as awful as it’s named, everything a rather garish red, including the drink he ends up ordering. He stays for just over an hour, but the place seems to be pretty dead, most of the people loud, already drunk and regulars. No one here is even close to the description on his list, and Goro swallows his way through the vodka, trying desperately not to catch anyone’s eye. 

It’s just gone midnight when he makes his way towards Crossroads, the break from pounding music, cigarette fumes and sticky floors a welcome relief, so he gives himself a moment to survey the establishment. 

There’s a small queue, a bouncer at the door slouching and chatting more than barring people from entering. Despite its reputation, the outside is fairly unassuming, just a sign and a set of stairs leading inside. There’s the sound of high laughter, a few people with drinks outside and smoking, and Goro decides to give himself a few more minutes before braving it. 

He checks his phone, Makoto having had no luck in her first place either, so he checks in. Yusuke has also messaged, telling Goro he’ll be happy to accompany him should he need an escort, and he quickly types out a firm refusal. Even the thought of trying to scope out a bar with Yusuke has him wincing. 

Messages done, he looks up, steeling himself before trying to incorporate a leisurely pace as he joins the queue to enter. It doesn’t take long before he’s in front of the bouncer, who up close Goro can see has dyed his hair extremely yellow extremely badly, the tone utterly different in several places, and he’s more thankful than ever Yusuke isn’t with him. He’d either have a field day or a breakdown. 

“Hey,” the bouncer says, seeming to pay slightly more attention than he has done in the past few minutes, still slouching against the wall, but eyeing Goro with what seems like a little suspicion. 

“You want in?” he asks, as if there’s any other reason why one would be standing outside a bar at this hour. 

Goro doesn’t trust himself not to snark at the ridiculousness, so just nods, keeping his face neutral and not trying his usual smile to get his way. He doesn’t think that would work so well under the circumstances. 

The bouncer gives him another once over, sighs as if doing his job is the most arduous thing in the world, and lets him pass, Goro catching him taking his phone out before he turns back to the other person hovering nearby. He can’t say much for the security here at any rate, which means it’s probably perfect for their target. 

Crossroads is busy in comparison to the previous bar, but not so packed Goro can’t get a feel for the place. There’s tables set out, mostly occupied, although he spies an empty one to the left of the room and quickly takes a seat. There’s a stage set up before him, music playing, the people seated talking and gesturing as if some act has just passed. 

Goro turns and at the opposite side of the room is the bar, more people lounging around and seated at stools in that area. It makes sense in many ways, closer to the drinks, and that seems to be what this clientele is interested in. 

He focuses though, casts his eyes over the crowd, then jolts when he spies someone with a distinct likeness to one of the identified suspects, throwing back his head and cackling just two tables over. Goro stares, quickly breaking out his phone to take a few notes, and managing to snap one picture in the process. Unfortunately, there appears to be no one else of note, but having Kaneshiro turn up here was possibly too good to hope. He does though, have a lead. 

“Hi! What can I get you?” 

Goro almost drops his phone as a woman walks directly in front of him, blocking his view. He has to raise his head to look at her; she must be tall anyway, and is currently balancing expertly in a pair of towering red heels. She smiles brightly, the kind of smile Goro knows is practiced, flicking her platinum blonde curled hair over one shoulder. 

Goro looks around as if for a menu, but of course there is nothing. He momentarily panics, not knowing what would be an appropriate drink to order, seeing as he’d just had the special at the previous bar. 

“Mojitos are two for one,” the woman says hopefully, and Goro tries not to look as relieved as he feels. 

“Mojitos then, thank you,” he says, and she blinks, looking a little out of sorts before the plastic smile is back and she walks away. 

Oddly, she immediately goes to the table of the suspect, who croons at her, causing her to giggle loudly into her hand. Goro grimaces; he can tell it’s all an act, can’t understand how the suspect doesn’t see it too, but watches out of the corner of his eye as the girl takes his card with a smile and a flick of her heel in a practiced, almost idol-esque pose, then hurries back to the bar. 

He tries snapping a few more photos, watching for anyone else's’ arrival, but the group seems complete. He notices them passing money between each other; not enough to be any more than dues owed, but more than is probably necessary in public space. He makes a note of it anyway, then sends a quick update to Makoto and Sae, putting his phone away just as the woman returns. 

“Here you go! I put extra sugar in, you look like you prefer sweet things,” she says, offering him a wink and a smile, while he blinks back at her. 

“Yes...I do,” he says, taking a sip through the straw of the closest drink to find it’s...perfectly pleasant, actually. 

“Good? I think they’re my best,” she says, and Goro sees out of the corner of his eyes movement at the table, and is about to turn around when the woman speaks. 

“Are you here for the show?” she says, and he’s forced to grit his teeth, not turn to look as she smiles down at him, bright and oddly eager. 

“Show? No, it’s my first night here,” he says, hoping she’ll be needed elsewhere so he can go back to checking out the suspect’s movements. 

“Oooh, well you came at a good time! Maybe you’ll enjoy it. We do ask people to stay in their seats when the performance starts, it’s far less disruptive,” she says, taking on an earnest tone that’s so hideously false he doesn't think anyone can buy it. 

But he nods and takes another sip of the impressively made drink. “Of course,” he says. 

“Great, well, it’s starting now, enjoy!” she says, then scampers away before he can say anything else. 

Goro frowns after her, then turns back with a sigh, and to his horror, notices his suspect has left the table. 

“Shit,” he mutters to himself, pocketing his phone and standing, only for the bar lights to dim and the stage to light up as all around him, people begin yelling and clapping. 

He hisses, then falls down in his seat, recalling exactly what the server said about staying in his seat, amazed at her impeccable timing. He wonders why, for surely others have had to leave, but seeing as he’d missed when and where the suspect had vanished to, he should probably stay put rather than accidentally making a scene. 

Goro sits back down as music starts to play, and the atmosphere amps up in the room. He fiddles with his gloves, itching to be released; changes in plans and surprises are not things he deals with well. He likes order and expectancy, and being asked to stay still when he has a job to do fights all these impulses. 

Goro cringes when a voice rings out through the bar. 

“And now, the act I know you’ve been waiting for. Give it up for Joker!” 

Goro doesn’t know what to do other than clap mechanically, already judging whatever person decided ‘Joker’ was a good stage name. He forces himself to give into the fact he has to endure whatever amateur bar entertainment this will be, most probably singing. A far cry he supposes from the Jazz bar he loves, but at least it’s not karaoke. He’ll definitely be leaving before that. 

It’s as he studies the stage, he realises with a strange, horrifying clarity exactly what’s about to happen. How he’d neglected to see the pole on his first sweep of his surroundings is beyond him. Goro is a detective, surely he should have noticed a pole on a stage. But of course, he hadn’t known Crossroads was this...type of establishment, and therefore wasn’t looking for it. 

By the way the noise is increasing around him, Goro appears to be the only one, especially as the music picks up tempo and he finds himself cringing down in his seat. This is going to be hell, he can’t believe he’ll have to sit through this display before he can pay for his drinks, then escape. 

Mentally, he’s preparing himself for an extremely uncomfortable time, but part of that falls away to pure shock when the guy appears almost out of nowhere. 

He chokes on his mojito; truth be told he isn’t expecting a man to appear, and not one with shoulders quite that sculpted which really, is a bad miscalculation seeing as he’s most likely going to pole dance at any moment, and Goro is absolutely weak to nice shoulders. 

The man, or Joker, as he’d been called, saunters on stage to a series of cheers, wearing an extremely tight waistcoat, even tighter wet look pants and dark boots, which stop just under his knees. The only pop of colour are gloves, crimson and stopping at his wrist, combined with the white mask perched over his eyes. 

He stops to the left of the pole and looks out at the audience as the music picks up. He surveys them all, smirking as he pulls at both his gloves with sharp movements, each flick of the material causing Goro’s heart to thump in time. His dark hair is that artful mess style that Goro can never pull off, falling distractedly over the mask, and it’s a wonder really that he can see at all. 

But he can, apparently, as he casts his eyes over the audience, who ramp up even more with his attention. It’s clearly a well practiced and effective act, for when his eyes, even behind the mask, seem to focus on Goro, his smirk slanted, as if just for him, which considering there is a crowd and the lights must be blinding, is entirely impossible. 

But it sends a jolt through him anyway, that is until Goro regains his senses. Surely he’s not so starved for attention that he’s imagining a pole dancer is interested in him? 

That thought flies swiftly out of his brain as Joker grips the pole with one gloved hand, idly swings around to the front, then lifts one hand to the top before sliding all the way to ground, head thrown back and neck bared with his back against the pole. 

“Fuck,” Goro says to himself eloquently, glad the breathless tone is lost in a sea of cheering. 

It’s ridiculously just how hot he finds that, and as the act continues, Goro has to stop himself from gawking more than once as Joker’s show continues. It’s more acrobatic than Goro would have previously assumed pole dancing would be, more effortless seeming feats of balance and strength, which has Goro’s mouth dry through the whole endeavour. 

He’d never really considered exactly what type of person he’s attracted to, but apparently it’s dark haired men with wicked smirks, lithe bodies and exceptionally toned biceps. Which is made even more obvious when halfway through the routine, he deftly removes the waist coat with one hand. 

Goro thinks he makes a noise when Joker becomes shirtless. He definitely makes some sort of obscene sound when he ends up hanging vertically, both hands gripping onto the pole, the strength of the pose clear with the way the muscles in his chest and back strain. Goro’s never wanted to bite someone so much in his life, leave marks on pretty, flawless skin so everyone who would glimpse it can writhe in knowing jealousy. 

It feels almost wrong to be practically drooling over a stranger like this, not something Goro can say he’s ever done so publicly before. He knows he’s blushing deeply, thankful for the darkness and the fact no one knows him here. Everyone around him is far louder than he, so at least he’s got some cover shrinking in his seat and trying not to imagine some stranger draped across him with their head thrown back. 

The delicious torment does end, to riotous applause. Goro joins in, although sedately, as Joker flicks his somewhat damp hair out of his mask, which miraculously stayed on through the entire display. He offers the audience a nod and then, managing this time to clearly catch Goro’s eye as he heads off stage, he  _ winks _ . 

Goro lets out an extremely high pitched noise, and blushes harder, neither of which any human will ever know occurred as thankfully, no one can see him lose his dignity right now. 

The house lights come on with Joker’s exit and as soon as they do, the spell is broken. Goro practically launches out of his seat and stares across the room. The table where the suspect was seated is still empty. 

“Are you okay? Did you enjoy the show?” 

Goro turns to see the same server from before, and frowns. She’s extremely attentive for such a place of disrepute, it’s odd. Perhaps she’s simply looking for a good tip, he doesn't imagine this place pays well. 

“Oh, yes. Lively,” he says, unsure how to describe the fact he would quite frankly like to do almost unspeakable things to that performer. 

“I would like to pay,” he follows up with quickly, trying to get himself back on track. 

The woman laughs brightly. “Oh no, it’s on the house. Anyone who Joker winks at gets their drinks free,” she says, and turns to spin away, going to the next table. 

Goro stares after her, then swiftly pulls on his jacket, abandoning the table with his face burning. He does a quick sweep of the bar and the bathroom, but there is no sign of the suspect. He therefore departs, noting how it’s close to two in the morning, the bouncer calling a bored “see ya,” as he does. 

He’s not sure whether this night is a complete success or an abysmal failure. 

* * *

“So, you saw him but lost him? And you have no idea what he may have done afterwards?” Sae says as they debrief the next day. 

Goro plasters on his best sorrowful expression while trying not to imagine why he wasn’t able to tail the suspect. “Unfortunately, yes,” he says. 

Both Nijima sisters stare, which is an uncomfortable situation to be in, but eventually, Sae turns back to her computer.

“Alright, we have a lead. And possibly good you didn’t corner him, as we don’t have the full warrant yet. With this though, I might be able to do something more,” she says. 

“Is it worth us going back tonight?” Makoto asks, and Sae observes them both carefully. 

“Perhaps. Let’s see how the day goes,” she says, a dismissal they’re both aware of, as they go back to their respective desks. 

He’s been working for less than half an hour before Makoto stops by. 

“Coffee?” she says, and he nods, signing and getting up, grateful for the distraction as they head down to the cafeteria. 

She looks as tired as he feels, considering they both got home rather late, but had to be in the office for their usual start time. As they arrive, Yusuke is already sitting in the corner, waving at them brightly, Goro offering him a much smaller greeting before he decides on a cake and coffee. 

“A nutritious snack, I see,” Yusuke comments, and Goro just glares, while Makoto eats an apple, which does not go with coffee, an all out bad decision. 

Yusuke of course, ignores an venomous look sent his way. “I am pleased to see you are no worse for wear after your activities last night,” he says, and the wording causes him to swallow his coffee too quickly, burning its way down. 

“Yes, what exactly happened last night. Not like you to lose a lead,” Makoto says, peering at him over her mug. 

This is the problem with having nosey friends, they never let anything lie. Goro puts his cup down and instead turns to Yusuke, who is looking at Goro’s cake longingly. Sadly, he’s too tired to give in today. 

“When you said you’d been to Crossroads before, what did you think of the...ambiance?” he says slowly, while Makoto looks between them with a frown. 

Yusuke thinks on it, and Goro hopes against hope, he understands the question. “Hmm, it had some sort of charm, in a risqué way. The inkling of temptation, the aspirations of night not spent alone, a mirage the daylight can expose...it served me well for the piece I created.” 

Goro isn’t sure why he tried, really. Yusuke seems to sense this, cocking his head to the side. 

“Was there a particular part you were referring to? The décor? The clientele? The burlesque? The drinks?-”

“Wait, go back, there’s burlesque? At that type of bar?” Makoto says, and Goro is so momentarily stunned that he cannot stop Yusuke from speaking. 

“Yes, although it is mostly amateurish, the dancing and aerial movements in one centralised apparatus,” he confirms, and Makoto starts, unblinking for a moment, before she turns to Goro. 

“He means pole dancing, doesn’t he. Did you...did you get distracted by a pole dancer?” she says, with such absolute horror tinged with amusement that he ends up forgetting himself completely and snarling at her. 

“I did not get distracted, the suspect left when I was informed I had to sit down,” he hisses, and Yusuke’s eyes widen while Makoto’s mouth twitches. 

“Sit down to do what, exactly?” she says, and Goro grinds his teeth, ears heating as he takes a huge bite of his cake so he doesn’t make it worse. Yusuke makes a wounded noise, making him feel slightly better. 

“I would not have thought pole dancers would be to your taste, Detective Prince,” Makoto adds, and at the look he gives her, she laughs. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just so unlike you. I’ll stop,” she says. 

“No, don’t stop, tell us more! This could make a great sketch,” Yusuke says, pulling out his sketch pad. 

“Are you meant to take that out in public?” Makoto says, but Yusuke ignores her, pointing a pencil at Goro. 

“Describe the precise lighting as it struck the dancer’s profile on the left side,” he says. 

“I really don’t think Goro will be able to give you that type of detail,” Makoto says, and then turns away when he glares at her, clearly holding in a laugh. 

“Hmm, maybe. Well, perhaps we’d all better go, I’d like to see this person who has captured your heart,” Yusuke says, and Goro groans, absolutely giving up with these people. 

“Firstly, you are not permitted to accompany me on any investigations. Secondly, there is no heart capturing,” he says, taking another bite of cake. 

“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen you be this...off kilter in a long time. It’s almost nice,” Makoto adds, and he can feel a headache building behind his eyes. 

“Ah, is this where we express concerns over Goro’s disastrous romantic history,” Yusuke says. 

“Not today, thank you,” Goro says, standing up and regretting every single choice of his life until this point. 

Makoto gets up, and pats him on the arm, the pity making it worse. “Don’t worry, we can check it out tonight,” she says, and he steps backwards. 

“What?” he manages, as she grins, picking up both their coffees as Goro seems to be incapable of functioning properly in the light of this gross interrogation. 

“Well, if we’re going on another information gathering trip, it’s best if we go together. We can take turns at surveillance,” she says, and this time does actually laugh, as Goro has to close his eyes for a second to stop himself from exploding. 

“Good luck! Update me on your quest for love,” Yusuke calls, causing several people to turn and look at them, Goro having to pull Makoto out of the cafeteria by her arm as she starts laughing even harder. 

He’s praying to a God which doesn’t exist all day that Sae refuses their night-time plans, but she gives them the go-ahead to do one more reconnaissance mission. So it is with a gnawing sense of concern he meets Makoto at the station hours later. 

He’s in a twin look of the night before, seeing as he doesn’t really own many outfits which work for this situation. Makoto is similarly all in black, but she’s in a well worn leather jacket, her t-shirt stopping before it meets her studded belt, combat boots on her feet. 

“Nice eyeliner,” she greets, and it takes him a beat to work out she’s serious. 

“Thank you, it took a while,” he says, and she grimaces. 

“I can imagine, I always ruin mine. Shall we do this?” she says, and he nods, the two making their way towards Crossroads. 

There’s a line again, and to Goro’s slight aggravation, the same lacklustre bouncer at the entrance. He hopes he isn’t recognised, the more times he’s seen by the same people, the greater chance of it seeing odd. But surely, every place has regulars? He poses this to Makoto, who hums. 

“I doubt they’d recognise you just from one visit. But either way you could say you’re a fan of...what was their name?” she says, smile more dangerous accompanied by the outfit. 

“Joker,” Goro mutters through gritted teeth, and Makoto shakes her head and sighs. 

“Really?” she says, as they survey the queue outside, her eyes sweeping along it. 

“I too am unimpressed by his ability to pick stage names. But let’s not get side-tracked,” he says, before launching into a detailed account of what had passed last night, Makoto instantly transforming into investigator, nodding along and asking questions where appropriate. 

“We have to remember to follow where we can. It looks fairly busy,” she says, as they join the queue, and Goro nods. Tonight the bouncer, still casually leaning against the wall, is admitting guests in at a steady rate, laughing and joking with a few, while others he looks at in a more detailed fashion. 

No one gets searched, asked for ID or turned away, but Goro does see him use his phone a few times. He assumes there’s no communications system in a place like this, so messages are probably the best they can do. Makoto leads the way as they step forward, greeting him with somewhat or a too loud “hi,” in Goro’s ears. 

“Hey, nice evening,” the man replies though, giving her a nod and a smile, before turning to Goro. 

“Go on in,” he says, no flicker of recognition in his eyes as he allows them both to pass, before the guy behind Goro starts up a conversation with him. 

For some reason, Goro feels the need to look behind as Makoto leads the way, and sees the bouncer has taken out his phone, still chatting to the man by the door, but typing as he does. He narrows his eyes, but can’t really find a reason to stay. Perhaps it is pure boredom, or a general update of numbers. Or perhaps it’s something else. 

“Where precisely were they sitting,” Makoto asks as they make their way in, having to wrap her arm around his to both be heard over the music and to ensure they aren’t separated with the people milling near the door. 

It is much busier, livelier and loud. Goro winces, sensation overload for a second as the heat of the room hits him, unconsciously clinging onto Makoto as he does. She turns, stepping out of the way of a very drunk couple and bringing him with her, giving him a questioning look, which he shrugs off. 

“Near the front, on the left,” he half shouts, and she nods. 

“Let’s go,” she says, and starts off, walking past the bar as she takes his hand and pulls him along, which serves as a good ruse for the two being together, and helps him navigate through the crowd. Goro has to take a breath as he does; he does not like being this close to others, the familiarity of Makoto steading him more than he’d like. 

They’re halfway across the room when he feels more like himself, keeping a steady pace with Makoto as she weaves them through, and scans the room, looking for any sight of the suspect, or anyone else they think is involved. 

As his eyes fall on the stage, he chokes, trips on his own feet, and knocks into Makoto. That is his first error. His second, is keeping his eyes on the stage as she stops and spins to look at him. But in his defence, he can’t possibly look away at the sight before him. 

Joker is on stage, once again shirtless, and once again suspended using those bright red gloves to keep him elevated. Goro watches, sweat beading at his temples as he manages to flip upside down, then pushes his legs open in a perfect split, ass facing the audience. 

The room goes wild, which is a relief for Goro because he almost swallows his own tongue and the sight, that urge of wanting to bite rearing its head again, and his mind starts conjuring a series of explicit scenarios he didn’t even think he was capable of imagining. Amazing what this Joker is doing to him. 

“Is that...oh my god,” Makoto whispers, having suddenly appeared at his side during the time when his brain was absent. 

“Yes,” he says, voice coming out gravelly as Joker runs one hand down his own chest. 

“Okay,  _ no _ focus. Goro. We need to move,” she says, shaking his arm, which should be more embarrassing, but when he turns tears his eyes away, she’s the one staring at the stage with her mouth slightly parted. 

“Yes, we do,” he says firmly, and she turns abruptly, cheeks pink and looking entirely flustered. 

Thunderous applause catches their attention, and they turn to see Joker giving a theatrical bow, that same waistcoat in his hand. Goro breathes a sigh of relief, although he’s secretly a little disappointed they missed the show. But it will actually mean they can focus on the job at hand. 

He does, however, watch Joker walk away, grinning to himself. 

Makoto clears her throat, but seeing as she was just as captivated a moment ago, he doesn’t care. 

He nods, flicking a piece of hair out of his eye, and they latch back together as they try to pass through the surge of people heading to the bar. 

Fortunately, that makes their job far easier, Goro spotting their suspects at the same table as the night before, and tables next to him free. They both casually make their way over, slipping into their seats. 

“They’re both suspects identified. Can you take a photo?” Makoto murmurs. 

Goro positions his phone, Makoto leaning over him as if they’re looking at something amusing on the screen, and he manages to snap one, before a person stands in their way. 

“Good evening, can I get you two a drink?” 

Goro looks up, and sees the same waitress as last night, this time her hair piled up in a bun, smiling brightly, yet somehow managing to block their line of sight expertly. 

“We’ll have mojitos,” he says, and she blinks, surprised, before her smile quirks up, far more genuine than before. 

“Mojitos it is,” she says, then moves away slowly. They both exhale when they see both suspects are still in place, talking quietly together. 

Over the next few minutes, several people pass by their table, Goro mentally trying to place them to any of the potential leads, but no one other than the two permanently occupying the table come to mind. There’s no sense of anything other than information being passed on, which makes it difficult for them to be able to pin anything on the group. 

Both of them freeze as a lull in table visitors causes one of the men to get up, hands in pockets, and stride towards the bar. Goro exchanges a look with Makoto, who nods. 

“I’ll go,” she says, and he hesitates for a second, before agreeing. 

“Keep in touch, do not leave the area,” he says seriously, and she nods, then walks in the opposite direction to the suspect, clearly with the aim of tailing under the radar. 

Without Makoto or anything to occupy his time, Goro takes out his phone and scrolls idly through, every once in a while looking up at the remaining suspect. Makoto hasn’t messaged, but he has a sense by the way their quarry keeps glancing around, he’s not planning on remaining here long. 

It would be helpful if Goro could find any explanation of what they’re waiting for or whom, so they could actually bring them in, but there isn’t one, and Goro’s nerves spike as he begins shrugging on his jacket. Makoto has still not replied, and really it’s not sensible for both of them to leave, but it seems he has little choice. 

“I have two mojitos,” says a deep voice from behind and Goro curses the timing of this place. 

“Oh yes, thank you,” he says, turning, meaning to only glance up in acknowledgement, but is struck with a sudden impending sense of horror as Joker stares back down at him, that smirk in place, holding the two drinks. 

He’s changed his top into a plain white t-shirt, an odd choice for the bar where everyone else's seem to ooze sex appeal, although, Goro has to admit, it still works for him. The mask is gone, revealing his grey eyes which seem supremely dark in the half light of the bar. The pants he’s wearing a still extremely tight, coming up to his waist where the shirt is tucked in, and Goro swallows, mouth dry again. 

Joker seems to know the effect he’s having, smirk pulling upwards as he lowers the two drinks down on the table, watching Goro the whole time. Snapping out of his reverie, Goro offers his best television smile, and picks up a drink. 

“Well, thank you for the swift service,” he says, hoping that will leave him to maintain tracking his suspect and put his thoughts in order, but Joker frowns, humming, the rumble sending a shiver down Goro's spine. 

“Don’t I know you?” he says, and for an instant, Goro thinks his cover’s blown, until Joker clicks his fingers. 

“You were here yesterday, I saw you in the crowd,” he says. 

That might actually be worse, but Goro’s smile does not waver, and he nods. 

“I-I was, actually. You have a good eye,” he says. 

To his half horror, half delight, Joker dips down, sliding smoothly into Makoto’s vacant seat. His eyes widen as Joker tips his head to one side, hair falling dramatically over one eye, as he crosses one leg over the other. The temperature is Goro’s veins rockets upwards. 

“I can’t help but notice you. Is this what you ordered yesterday? I asked my friend to make sure you had a drink on me,” he says, and Goro might actually be sweating now, everything suddenly humid. 

“Ah, yes. Thank you for the generosity, it is uncalled for,” he says, having no clue how to move forward this conversation. 

“You’re more than welcome. It’s a shame I have to go now, work calls. But maybe I’ll see your pretty face another time. Hopefully, you’ll stick around for longer,” he says, standing slowly, his eyes once again not leaving Goro’s. 

“I hope so too,” he says, words slipping out, and Joker’s mouth curls into something joyous, small and real, making Goro actually smile himself, looking down at his drink once. 

“Enjoy your evening,” Joker says softly, then takes the tray and heads off back to the bar. 

Goro watches him leave again. It really is an excellent sight. 

Except as soon as he languidly turns with a sigh, he notices the table next to him is empty. 

“What the fuck,” he hisses, standing and grabbing his own coat, pushing his way through the crowds, trying to catch any sign of the suspects. But there’s none. He grips his phone, the metal digging into his hands as his frustration boils over, heading for the exit, only to see Makoto appear just before it. 

“Did you find him?” he asks, grabbing her arm and she shakes her head. 

“What about yours?” she replies.

“Gone. Dammit, this is so fucking ridiculous,” he half shouts, but thankfully it goes unheard over the din.

Makoto leans back against the wall, exhaling. Goro takes a second, letting the anguish bleed out of him, both of them calming down. When she opens her eyes, she just looks tired. 

“Let’s go home, there’s nothing else to do here,” she says. 

They both step out, once again too late to get the train, so they walk slowly to the nearest taxi rank, both quiet and deflated. 

“The bouncer held me up. I had to find my ID and everything,” she mutters, and Goro frowns. 

“Odd, he didn’t seem so attentive-shit, I didn’t pay for the drinks,” he says, wincing when he recalls the entire reason he lost the suspect. 

Makoto sighs. “Least of our problems, but I’ll call them in the morning. But we can hand this over to someone, there’s clearly enough to inspire a full investigation,” she says, and Goro nods, hailing the next cab he sees. 

It takes him a long while to fall asleep that night, the change in hours messing with his brain, as well as the sugar from the drink. Not to mention seeing Joker, up close and personal, confirming he remembered him from Friday. 

It’s stupid he knows, to think on it. There is no reason for him to go to Crossroads again, and even if he did so, it’s not as if he could strike up any kind of lasting relationship with the man. Firstly, Goro is not the sort of person who is good at maintaining long term anything, even if he might want to. And besides, he’s definitely not the kind of person Joker would want to date, not the real him anyway. 

He eventually dozes off in a foul mood. There’s an impending sense of doom over his shoulders from the moment he wakes up, tripping over a wayward shoe, and making a mess of his toothpaste as he greets the morning. He’s downright annoyed when he turns on the TV, hoping to get a nice relaxing coffee in before he goes through his personal admin like he usually does each Sunday. 

Only to be greeted with the headline that infamous gangster Kaneshiro has been taken into police custody. 

“You have got to be shitting me,” he yells at the TV, then runs back into his bedroom, coffee be damned. 

“Did you see?” he says, as he leaves his apartment, Makoto’s breaths on the other line telling him she’s marching to the office as well. 

“Yes. I don’t understand what happened. I’ve left a message for Sis, but she’s not answering,” she says, and Goro tuts as he half runs to the station. 

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he grumbles, knowing she’ll be there much earlier seeing as she’s already on her way. 

He stews the entire journey. How the hell had someone got there before them? This was supposed to be his case, the one which would help establish him as something, and it’s been ripped from under his feet. No one else should be working on this, they are the team with the arrests, and as far as he knows, no one has been even close to convicting Kaneshiro. 

He feels at a loss, the energy that has been keeping him going for weeks falling away as he pulls into the station. He just about makes it off in time, his heart just not in it as he races to work. It feels like defeat, and Goro Akechi hates to lose. It bothers him even more, as the air in the office is one of jubilation, revelling in a success that they had no hand in. 

As he gets off the elevator on the third floor, he spies Makoto easily, weaving his way through the relatively empty office. He spies Sae in the office at the far end, and grimaces as Makoto catches his eye. 

“I didn’t manage to catch her, but it seems like an undercover team have been in place for months, hoping to catch Kaneshiro and his inner circle. We managed to catch someone on the outskirts, but they were already in place,” she says dejectedly. 

Goro slumps into the chair next to her, silence reigning. They’d already been too late when they’d stepped into the bar, the case far out of their hands. 

“We couldn’t have known. Looks like Sis... _ Sae _ , wasn’t even aware our investigations crossed over. They’re going through it now,” she says. 

“Will there be any issues with us being at Crossroads?” he asks, and Makoto shakes her head. 

“I doubt it, we were acting with all the information we had. A little unorthodox maybe, but we didn’t do anything wrong,” she says, but Goro’s not sure if she’s trying to talk herself into that way of thinking. 

Makoto leans round, trying to peer through the office door. 

“I think they’re coming out soon. I wonder who was on the undercover team,” she says, and Goro shrugs, uninterested. He’s never really cared what other departments do, unless he has to interact with them directly. 

“Is that...wait, that’s the bouncer!”

That though, captures his attention. Makoto is peering over, her presence blocked behind one of the other meeting rooms, watching in a way that is almost childlike and extremely unsubtle. There’s an exit at the other end of the office, so Goro groans but joins her, standing behind her to see as the loud voice of the bouncer with awful dyed hair echoes. 

“He saw my ID,” Makoto whispers frantically, and Goro almost laughs, except after him steps a tall woman, who is unmistakable the server he spoke to. 

“Damn it, what the hell?” he mutters, as she laughs, nodding at something Sae says as she leaves the room. 

“They knew,” he mutters to himself, a numbness seeping through. 

Of course. It’s obvious now, the way she’d stood in front of them, kept his attention and made him sit down. They’d both known all along who he and Makoto were, and had actively tried to prevent them from butting into their own investigation. He rubs a hand across his face, then turns away. This couldn’t possibly be-

“Oh my god. Goro, Goro, it’s him!” and suddenly he’s yanked back to the wall almost hitting it headfirst. 

Makoto keeps an iron grip on his wrist, although for some reason she starts shaking, hand flying to her mouth, and he worriedly looks over at the group, where a final person is closing the office door. 

A person with curled, dark hair, a graceful stance and legs that Goro would shamefully recognise anywhere. 

“Joker,” they both say at the same time, Goro suddenly realising they’ve said it far too loudly. 

He reacts, while Makoto, who is weirdly bad at spying on people, just lets out a nervous laugh, meaning Goro’s sudden flight back behind the wall is hopefully missed. 

“Oh, Makoto, I see you recognise some of the team. I should introduce you,” Sae calls. 

“Ah, we met, sorry I couldn’t say anything,” calls the bouncer, and Goro winces, inching away slowly. 

“Yes! I’m so sorry, I really wanted to tell you who we were. I’m Ann Takamaki,” says the server, and Goro decides in that instant he cannot deal with this. He absolutely is not going to meet the person who he’d eye fucked for two nights straight, who had noticed him doing it, his already tattered reputation can’t handle this. 

So he bravely runs away. Well, more accurately pushes off the wall and walks swiftly towards the side exit before anyone can turn the corner. As he looks around, he sees Makoto turn, eyes widening, and shaking her head ever so slightly, but he ignores her. 

It’s one thing fantasising about a pole dancer in a club who flirted with him a couple of times. It’s another to realise said dancer is actually only posing working at a bar, is actually in the same profession as Goro, and works in his building. 

And Goro is absolutely not going to deal with this shit right now. Or, actually ever, if he can get his way. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When I said I’d teach you gymnastics, I sort of assumed you’d use them differently,” Sumi says with a frown, while Haru laughs quietly from behind the counter. 
> 
> “Does it help if he was using them to seduce a guy?” Ann yells from the other side of the room, and Akira is so thankful they’re the only ones in the store. 
> 
> “Oh yes, of course it does! Akira, why didn’t you tell me there was someone you liked?” she says, looking hurt of all things, while Ann and Ryuji start laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support of part 1! This story has been so fun to write. 
> 
> Akira POV for the middle chapter, which is rated T. I'm sorry, I promise they do actually get to the E rated parts in chapter 3. 
> 
> Thank you to my fantastic beta MxTicketyBoo for listening to my worry about this fic endlessly <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Sumi sighs, putting down her cup with a frown. 

“When I said I’d teach you gymnastics, I sort of assumed you’d use them differently,” she says with a frown, while Haru laughs quietly from behind the counter. 

“Does it help if he was using them to seduce a guy?” Ann yells from the other side of the room, and Akira is so thankful they’re the only ones in the store. 

“Oh yes, of course it does! Akira, why didn’t you tell me there was someone you liked?” she says, looking hurt of all things, while Ann and Ryuji start laughing. 

“That’s not-” he tries, but the scurrying of trainers on the tiled floor spells out his doom, Ann rushing into the room holding the box of ground coffee she’d been searching for. 

“Found them! Oh, you guys are not going to believe what happened,” she says, walking around the counter to place the box near Haru, who has too given up trying to organise her own store in favour of listening. 

“It’s wild, seriously Akira lucked out,” Ryuji says and he can feel himself starting to blush, wishing he had his glasses, or even the mask from their last mission. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now,” he says, and Haru moves around the counter, watering can in hand. 

“Okay, for real, so I’m at the door on Friday night, so close to the end of this gig, and you will not believe who marches right up looking for entry?” Ryuji says, Ann clapping her hands together in excitement. 

Sumi looks bemused, Haru shaking her head patiently, while he hopes the ground will swallow him up and let him suffocate, it would truly be better that way. 

“Goro. Fucking. Akechi,” Ryuji finishes with flair, as Ann starts laughing hysterically. 

“He messaged me immediately! I thought Ryuji was just being an idiot-”

“Hey!”

“But then he turns up at one of the tables! Just in time for Akira’s performance,” she says, words just about coming out through the laughter. 

Sumi looks between them, smile growing, as Haru frowns. 

“Goro Akechi...wait, the TV Detective? The one you had a crush on through high school?” she says, and god, Akira would pay someone to take him out right now. 

“YES!” Ann and Ryuji yell, and Akira gives up, groaning and dropping his head on the table. 

The problem with having the majority of your friends from high school, is that they know far too much. They have witnessed awkward fashion sense, first love blooming and dying, those first drunken nights, and the highs and lows of academic success. 

It’s just unfortunate that this certain teenage fixation has followed Akira into adulthood. He’d just never predicted he’d work in the same building as the minor celebrity who had sparked his bi realisation at fifteen. 

What’s more, one usually gets over the type of person you have a crush on as a teen. And to his credit, Akira assumed he had. Except three days into his new job, Goro Akechi had walked into the cafeteria, and Akira had promptly dropped half his sandwich in his lap. Akechi has just got hotter, now with hair slightly longer, jawline more pronounced, and a seriousness that makes Akira gravitate towards him. What’s more, he’s good at his job, really should be higher in the ranks from what Akira’s seen over the past few years. 

And his wonderful best friends were there to see the whole thing. 

“That must have been quite the surprise,” Haru says, and Ann sighs. 

“You have no idea. I mean, it was sort of annoying since we had to try and keep him and his teammate away from our case, but it did give me the time to get him to sit down for Akira’s stage performance,” she says with a grin. 

“Okay, let’s stop that there,” Akira says, lifting his head from the table and feeling his skin start to flame. 

Sumi shakes her head at him. “Did you...tailor your performance knowing he was in the audience?” she asks, with a slight knowing twinkle in her eye, and it is absolutely awful that these people have seen exactly how he approaches all relationships. 

Granted, he doesn’t normally strip for them. Not in public, and not before he’s dating them, anyway. 

“He so did,” Ann says, and even Sumi laughs this time.

Akira sits back in his chair, unimpressed. “Yes yes. Well good to know he is utterly ignoring me now,” he says, and Sumi’s face falls. 

“Oh hell no, don’t pull that, dude. Someone can’t ignore you if you don’t try talking to them in the first place,” Ryuji says, and Akira makes a face. 

They’d all seen him swiftly depart from the room the day they’d been introduced to Makoto Nijima, so Akira doesn’t hold up much hope that he has any chance of striking up a conversation with Akechi anytime soon. Besides, he had no idea who Akira was before he saw him as Joker. Akira is under no illusion; the attraction is purely towards the performer, not actual undercover agent Akira Kurursu. 

Which is probably for the best. For all his eight years of pining, Akira can’t say actually getting into a relationship is a good idea. He works constantly, and even between cases his hours aren’t exactly hospitable. Then there’s the fact he can’t tell anyone what his missions are, some of which involve him staying away for months on end. It’s hardly a good grounding for any type of relationship, hence why he’s been single for so long. 

He jumps when someone flicks his forehead. Ann jumps backwards, shaking her head. 

“None of that. I saw Akechi in the bar, he couldn’t take his eyes off you,” she says, folding her arms. 

“Couldn’t take his eyes off Joker. I’m hardly like that normally,” he says, a little bitterness creeping in. 

Ann opens her mouth, clearly ready to give a pep talk he’s not really in the mood for, when Haru stands. 

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I need to open in ten minutes,” she says, and immediately they all hurry into their own tasks. 

Akira’s not really sure what to call Haru’s store; it mostly sells plants and produce, but she also has a small café, hence their morning meet ups. It works as a way for them all to connect, considering their lives have taken so many different paths. 

Akira takes the crockery and immediately starts washing up, while Ann goes back to emptying coffee into the jars behind the counter. Sumi takes up a second watering can and joins Haru in catering for the plants, while Ryuji reorganises the furniture. 

They’re done with a few minutes to spare, grinning at each other as Haru turns the sign to open. 

“Do we really have to go in today? The paperwork is taking forever,” Ryuji says, and Ann rolls her eyes. 

“Yes, if we actually want to convict Kaneshiro,” she reminds him, but Akira feels for Ryuji. He has so much admin to do and zero willpower. 

“I have a meet across town in a few hours, but I don’t want to go,” Sumi mutters, sitting back down at the table, and Akira finds himself doing the same. 

“Hmm, I guess we could stay for one more coffee,” Ann says, and Haru laughs, shaking her head at them. 

“Well, it really is like high school again,” she says with a smile, and Akira gets up to help her with drinks. 

“You really don’t have to, I can manage. I learned from the best after all,” she says, nudging him. 

“Old habits die hard, plus you really shouldn’t be serving us when you have better things to do,” he says, but despite this, they make the drinks together, Akira leaving his own for last. 

The sound of the door opening is familiar at this point, but the slight little squeak of a noise Haru lets out is not. Akira frowns, capping off his drink, but before he can look up, he hears Ryuji calling. 

“Hey, Detective!” 

Akira spins, nearly banging into Haru who jumps out of the way, and milk spills on the floor between them. The both stare at each other, Akira’s pulse skyrocketing in horror. 

“That’s not my role, but hello Sakamoto,” says a voice that is absolutely not who Akira was expecting. 

He looks up to see Makoto Nijima, as well as his friends, all staring at him and Haru. Behind her, Ann has her hand clasped over her mouth, Ryuji is grinning widely, and Sumi looks as if she’s trying not to laugh. 

Great. 

“Are you both okay?” Nijima asks, and Haru clears her throat. 

“Y-yes, I’m so sorry about that,” she says, smoothing down her apron with nervous hands, Akira frowning again. 

Nijima smiles, and steps forward. “It’s no problem, I was just hoping to order some coffee to take away?” she says. 

“Absolutely. Akira, probably best you go sit down,” Haru says in a slightly icy tone, which has him gathering his drinks and rushing away before she can expel her ire any further. 

“Smooth,” Ann whispers, and he elbows her, while Sumi gives in and laughs. 

“How are you doing, Makoto?” Ann says, and Akira blinks, not knowing they were on a first name basis. 

“Well, Ann. I hope you all are too,” she says, smiling but with an air of slight awkwardness. Akira can’t really recall what they discussed in their brief introduction, but it seems Ann’s already started a friendship, as she’s wont to do. 

“Great! Well, we have a lot of paperwork today, so slow start,” she says, and Akira nods, Makoto signing in understanding. 

“And how is the actual detective. What was it they called him in that interview? Detective King?” Ryuji says. 

“Prince,” Akira says, without thinking, then has to take a long sip of coffee when he realises how he’d stupidly walked into that one. 

“Prince, right. You always remember these things Akira,” Ryuji says, and Akira is 100% going to kill him later. Probably with paperwork. 

Makoto looks between them, clearly thinking they’re ridiculous, which is understandable. 

“Akechi is...well actually I should probably get some cake, can I get one of those red velvet ones?” she says, turning back to Haru who nods. 

“Tough week?” he can’t help but ask, and Makoto turns, shaking her head. 

“You have no idea. Or well, actually you probably do. Just busy. Kurusu, was it?” she says, and he nods. 

“You can just call me Akira. I mean by this point we’re pretty familiar,” he says, and to his surprise, Makoto starts laughing. 

“Yes, I suppose we are,” she says, and he can see Haru pouring her drinks from behind. 

He doesn’t know what possesses him; perhaps it’s the traps from his so-called friends, perhaps it’s the badgering from Ann, but he moves two steps forward to speak to her. 

“I feel as if I should apologize to Akechi for what happened,” he says, moving his hand awkwardly to the back of his neck, in an attempt to make sure he doesn’t blush. 

“Oh, I really don’t think you need to,” she says with a laugh, then her eyes widen suddenly. 

“I-I mean, you were just doing your job,” she says, and Akira has to wonder at the reaction. 

“I may have taken it a bit too far,” he admits, unsure exactly what he’s told her. 

Makoto surveys him, and for some reason he feels he’s being judged. Then she smiles slightly. 

“Well, we’re attending that departmental meeting at 2, so I’m sure we’ll see you there,” she says. 

Akira has never attended a single departmental meeting in all the years he’s worked here, but he nods as if he’s the attentive person Makoto surely is. She offers another smile, somewhat wider and he has an unnerving feeling he’s been slightly set up. 

“Here you are! Please enjoy,” Haru suddenly chimes in, and Makoto turns around, taking the coffees and a paper bag. 

“Oh, I only ordered one cake,” she says, and Haru shakes her head. 

“You can’t buy cake for someone else and not have one! My gift to you,” she says sweetly. 

Makoto goes bright red, and bites her lip, while Haru looks supremely pleased with herself and stumbles out a goodbye to the room at large before quickly heading out. 

“Well, that’s how it’s done, Akira,” Sumi calls, and Haru nods, giving him an encouraging look. 

“Urg, we’re going to this departmental meeting aren’t we?” Ryuji grumbles, which seems to be the reminder for all of them that they have other places to be. 

Lavenza greets them as they file in, reminding them all that their paperwork is due tomorrow. Igor is once again out, but Akira knows their mysterious boss will appear the moment something isn’t filed correctly, but it does at least mean they can have the radio on while they slowly slog through. The eight floor is barely used except their own corner, adding to the weird mystery of their team. 

They have a lot to do, and not just to file this paperwork, which Akira is only doing to get back into what’s really bothering him: the fact that Kaneshiro is not who they were looking for. Sure, he’s a stepping stone in it, and a big one at that, but something worse is happening out there. He just has to work out what. 

“So where are you going to take Akechi on your first date?” Ann asks, and Akira glares at her over his screen. 

“What? That’s the whole point of this conversation, right? Ask him out, have a real date and done! Easy,” she says. 

“That is not easy,” Akira says, trying to immerse himself in typing, but this form is fourteen pages long and doesn’t allow you to copy paste. It must be some form of torture. 

“Akira. I know you think he liked Joker, but you  _ are _ Joker. You just find it easier to be bold like that when you’re pretending to be someone else. Just embrace that and use it,” she says. 

“Yeah, man. You still said all that shit, whatever it was that got him all interested. No one wrote those lines for you,” Ryuji adds. 

Akira exhales. They have a point; he always did find it easier to go through difficult situations with some sort of disconnect. Rejection stung less if he could ease the personal blow. Despite the fact he was hiding his identity, and working at Crossroads simply to interact with a criminal ring, didn’t mean it wasn’t him. 

And yet, he has a hard time believing someone like Akechi would even want to go out with someone like him. He is, quite frankly, kind of boring. 

But 2pm rolls on, and the weight of his decisions falls on his shoulders, Lavenza looking amazed but pleased they’re all making an effort for once. They head down to the auditorium on the first floor, mostly used for public talks, filing in with colleagues Akira spends most of his time trying to hide from. 

“I’m already yawning, urg you owe me, Akira,” Ryuji mutters next to him as he spies Makoto and Akechi on the opposite side of the room. 

“Come on,” Ann hisses on his other side, dragging him through the shuffle of people expertly, Ryuji grumbling under his breath behind. 

Makoto and Akechi opt for seats near the front, which makes a Akira grimace; he always hated sitting in direct line of sight from any authority figure, but for today, he’ll make an exception. As soon as they get closer, Ann raises a hand and Makoto, who has clearly been looking around, smiles when he sees her. 

“Hey, Makoto! Are these seats taken?” she asks, and Makoto nods as Akechi looks up, startled, eyes widening further when he sees who has arrived. 

“No, please go ahead,” she says, and Ann grins, then practically drags Akira forward first so he sits next to Akechi in a way which must look so set up that he has to inhale to stop himself from making even more of an embarrassment of himself than Ann is doing. 

She sits next to him, Ryuji on the end, and as soon as he takes his place Akechi visibly tenses. This is not going to work, he clearly doesn’t want to be anywhere near Akira, as he studiously looks forward as if a blank wall is suddenly supremely interesting. On the other side, Makoto seems to be communicating silently over their heads, and the pressure of the awkwardness continues. 

“Hey, how long are they gonna make us wait? You guys normally come to this, right?” Ryuji suddenly calls, and Akira is suddenly extremely thankful for his existence. 

“You’ve never attended a single departmental meeting?” Akechi says, the judgement dripping from his words. 

Akira looks over, and although clearly all three have displeased him, he’s directly addressing Akira, which makes annoyance flare. 

“Oh, yeah our schedules don’t tend to align with most things,” Ann says with a shrug. 

“We’ve been working nights for almost three months, catching mafia bosses,” Akira says, the jibe darting out before he can stop it, and Akechi’s eyes narrow. 

“A-anyway, it’s nice to actually see people rather than just our office!” says Ann, clearly trying to recover the conversation, which Akira isn’t sure can be recovered. 

“My, it is busy here today, may I sit here?” 

Another voice causes Akira’s head to turn, and Makoto moves her bag which was sitting on the chair on the other side as a man carrying a large sketchbook appears. 

“I saved you a chair,” Makoto says, and he smiles before looking over at the group. 

“I don’t believe I know any of you,” he says, and Ann stands, offering a hand. 

“I’m Ann Takamaki, pleased to meet you,” she says, and the man shakes her hand slowly, staring at her without blinking. That is, until Makoto elbows him hard. 

“Ouch! I am sorry, you are just...incredibly striking, I must sketch you,” he says, and Ann removes her hand quickly. 

“Um...what?” she says, looking entirely bemused and a little concerned. 

“Ah please excuse Yusuke, he’s one of the department sketch artists,” Akechi says, turning his glare on his friend, as if the explanation adequately describes the behaviour. 

Ann sits, offers a smile, and Yusuke’s eyes stare back until Akira coughs hard, drawing his attention. Yusuke blinks, and Akira regrets this instantly, really not used to being under such scrutiny, flinching a little when he’s pointed at. 

“You’re Joker,” Yusuke says with absolute certainty, and he forgets his hesitation, leaning forward. 

“I am,” he confirms with a nod and next to him, Akechi makes a broken, strangled noise Akira isn’t sure people are meant to make. 

“Yusuke,” Makoto hisses, as Ann and Ryuji also lean forward. 

“How do you know that code name?” Ryuji says, looking annoyed, but Yusuke is not paying attention enough to see. 

“You are almost precisely how Goro described you, I must show you my painting, with a few tiny adjustments of course,” he says, and Makoto drops her head into her hands. 

“A painting? Of Akira?” Ann says, her voice rising with what he knows is laughter as Akira turns to Akechi, who is glaring up at Yusuke, the effect diminished by the fact his face is practically glowing, it’s so red. 

“You’re describing me to artists?” Akira says, cannot help the grin on his face as Akechi’s attention snaps to him, absolute horror on his face. 

He feels any hesitation drop, so of course, that’s exactly when the meeting starts, Makoto pulling Yusuke into his seat, and Akira forced to turn his attention to an excessively long series of bad powerpoint slides. He can’t even focus on what the topic is, his mind still buzzing with the realisation that Akechi has been talking about him to his friends. 

The meeting drags, Akira restlessly fiddling with his hair until Ann grabs his hand and pulls it down to his side, giving it a little squeeze as he does. His antithesis, Akechi barely even breathes he’s so still, but Akira can’t quite bring himself to turn and check. 

After an eternity, it does eventually end, and most people are quick to get out of their seats and leave the room. As soon as this begins, Akechi turns with an exhale, now perfectly composed, offering Akira a smile as if he’s back on television. 

“I think there may have been some crossed wires from the previous conversation, Kurusu,” he says and Akira frowns. 

“So, you didn’t describe me dancing at the club to your artist friend,” he says carefully. 

“He did, in a specific pose which-” Yusuke is cut off dramatically, and Akira cannot tell at this angle whether it’s by Makoto or Akechi. 

It’s not ideal, they’re in public and he did not expect to have any sort of in with Akechi this quickly, but Akira feels like he’s almost on a roll, as if even the mention of Joker has brought out that mask to hide behind. 

“I don’t mind, just normally someone buys me dinner before they commission art of me,” he says, and Akechi’s face moves through several emotions so quickly he cannot track them all, and settles back on a smile but with a sense of malice that it feels like he’s created brand new feeling. 

“Fine, let’s go to dinner then,” he says, and it’s Akira’s turn to be utterly shocked by the turn of events. 

Akechi somehow manages to exchange numbers with him, an event that Akira experiences in a sort of haze, and then he’s storming out of the room while Akira is left in his seat. Slowly, he turns back to see Ann and Ryuji still there, the whole room almost empty apart from the three of them, 

“Did I just get a date, or threatened?” he asks, still in shock. 

“I have no idea, dude,” Ryuji replies. 

* * *

The energy of that encounter fades almost as soon as he leaves the room and reality sets in. Akechi messages him, in quite a perfunctory way with an invitation to dinner on Saturday night, and Akira is immediately out of his depth. 

“Akira. It’s a date. You have done this many times, what is wrong with you?” Ryuji comments in alarm on Friday. 

“It’s his high school crush, give him some slack,” Ann says with a laugh as Sumi returns with drinks. 

“You should be excited! Isn’t this everything you’ve ever wanted?” she says and they all burst into laughter. 

This might be why Akira is panicking so much. It is literally like something out of his teenage fantasies, except in those he was far smoother, and probably wanted to take Akechi to Big Bang burger or something. But it is odd to be in this position. Most of Akira’s past relationships he’s mostly fallen into; not that he didn’t care, he’s just always maintained a distance. 

With Akechi, he’s gone about things without thinking or preparing, and it’s both worked and been a disaster. He has no idea how to handle this. 

Which is why he ends up drinking too much, staying out way too late and waking up on Saturday with a hangover. A great way to start the day. He ends up working out, almost being sick before taking a bath and hoping this is enough to purge the alcohol from his system. It makes him feel more human at least, even if he still is somewhat dead inside. 

It also means his whole days practically flies by with trying to get rid of a hangover so he has little time to panic about the date, but what little time he does his mind decides to spend it in absolute disarray, obsessing about his clothes before sending several photos to Ann before she tells him to take it all off and just go with a simple blazer, jeans and white shirt. 

Akira tries to tell himself the whole train journey into town that it will be fine. The fancy hotel address just sounds fancy, and it won’t be that intimidating; that going on an actual date with Akechi is going to be just like a normal date and nothing more. 

But of course, that’s all entirely false when he ends up being shown to a table in a hotel restaurant Akira is sure you have to bribe someone for a reservation, with Akechi already seated. He’s slightly disappointed Akechi’s hair isn’t tied back, just artfully tidy, and sadly no eyeliner. He smiles when Akira appears, but it looks extremely practiced as if he’s been rehearsing this all day. 

Akira’s not sure if that makes him feel better or worse. 

“Did you find the place okay?” he asks, and Akira nods, never really good at small talk. 

“It’s nice. Fancy. Have you been here before?” he says, looking around and taking everything in. 

Akechi’s face falls for a moment, but that smile returns. “No, but I have seen many fantastic reviews, so thought it would be a good location,” he says, just as a waiter comes over with the menus. 

It’s definitely fancy, and Akira fidgets with the back of his hair while he wonders if googling some of the ingredients is a faux pas. 

“Did you want to see the wine list?” Akechi asks, and Akira’s stomach revolts at the thought. 

“Um, not for me tonight. I’ll have something non alcoholic,” he says, and Akechi smiles, not at all put out. 

It’s strained, Akira thinks as they both choose their food. He hates that it is, hates that it gives his mind time to wonder if this is a good idea. He could have sworn that they had a connection; something easy and instant that perhaps he’d been reading too much into at the time. 

When the waiter returns, Goro orders...something, and Akira flounders before doing the same, picking things with the most recognisable names, and hoping for the best. Seeing as he’s not really that picky, it should be fine. 

But with no menus to hide behind, the tension is dialled up to the maximum, and Akira is back to sitting somewhere between awkward first date and starstruck he’s on said awkward date with Goro Akechi. So, as usual something random slips out when he’s lost in his mind. 

“Shame they don’t serve mojitos here.” 

Akechi just stares at him, and Akira is so tempted to slam his head on the table. Except, Akechi laughs. A real laugh this time, as it’s slightly too loud for the stuffy settling, and he brings a hand to his mouth as if he can push it back in. 

“Well, I am sure they serve me some fancy alternative, but I don’t think it will hold a candle to your friend’s drinks,” he says, visibly relaxing as Akira leans forward. 

“I actually taught her how to make it,” he says. 

“You did?” Akechi replies, leaning forward himself, and Akira hums. 

“I used to work in a bar. An actual bar mixing drinks in college, Ann was terrible on her first night. I had to spend two days teaching her, and she can still only make mojitos and tequila sunrise,” he says. 

“And what is your speciality?” Akechi asks, and Akira is so tempted to say many specifically named drinks but decides instead to go for the truth. 

“Espresso martini. I used to work in a coffee shop so it goes hand in hand,” he says. 

“You’ve had many...interesting jobs,” Akechi says, and the lilt to his voice means Akira is sure he’s thinking specifically of his latest. But he’s not going to take the bait. 

“I had a few in high school and college, yeah. Not all of us started as teen detectives,” he says, and Akechi winces. 

“Ah. You remember that,” he says, and Akira can absolutely feel his friends gearing up with stories about exactly how badly Akira remembers it. Better to raise it now just in case. 

“You were quite popular,” he says, and Akechi grimaces. 

“It doesn’t exactly help nowadays. But I suppose we shouldn’t talk about work on a date,” he says, and to Akira’s delight he actually flushes a little at the word. It’s adorable. 

“Well, you’ll have to remind me of the conversation dos and don’ts, can’t say I’m an expert,” he says, and Akechi frowns. 

“Really?” he says, and Akira rolls his eyes. 

“I just spent months working as a dancer in a bar by night, doing intel by day, I barely had time to look after my cat,” he says, and he probably shouldn’t mention that he’s so rusty at dating, but the truth of it does seem to work, Akechi laughing softly. 

“Yes, work takes up most of my time as well. Although I can’t say it’s as interesting as yours, Kurusu,” he says. 

“You can call me Akira,” he says, which may be forward but he catches the small, bright smile Akechi dims with a cough, recovering with a nod. 

“Well then you may call me Goro. Oh, it looks as if our appetisers are here,” he says, and Akira stares at the plate as it’s put before him. 

“Something wrong?” Goro says, and Akira looks up to see he’s chosen soup, although he doesn’t recall soup as ever having been on the menu. 

“I don’t really know what I ordered,” Akira admits, staring down at his food and feeling like an idiot. 

He’s rewarded with another too loud laugh, which makes him feel entirely alright with it. 

* * *

Not to be outdone by Goro, Akira starts pulling in favours in order to make sure their dates continue to have that air of decadence he started. He gets tickets to the opera, which seems to be a hit as Goro knows a lot about opera, and Akira enjoys listening to him talk with enthusiasm. He doesn’t mind it, the singing is incredible, but he has a hard time following the plot when it’s entirely in Italian, not to mention running for a long time. 

It’s nice though, being in the dark and close together, and when Akira’s eyes start to close a little, he’s almost tempted to tip his head to Goro’s shoulder, but he’s not sure that’s okay between them, nor does it feel like the right atmosphere. 

Honestly, Akira’s sure if he’d just taken Goro to the movies he could probably initiate a make out session in the dark like they’re teenagers. But not in the opera. He does though, at some point manage to hold Goro’s hand, that they only disconnect when the lights come up. So, that will do for now. 

Goro takes them to an exclusive art exhibition which Akira actually likes quite a bit. He knows nothing about art, but it’s soothing, walking through the rows of vibrancy and expression, wearing a suit he used in a previous mission, and holding a glass of champagne. Everyone else attending makes comments on the ambiance and impressionism, and Akira ends up telling Goro one particular piece looks like a giraffe, much to nearby attendee’s horror. They then proceed to declare ridiculous meanings to all paintings, and Akira is both surprised and genuinely happy they don’t get kicked out. It’s great fun. 

“Maybe I should get tickets to the ballet? Or that rooftop bar that never lets us in,” he says, and Ann looks at him over her notes. 

“Akira, it’s a date not a competition, you don’t have to keep trying to one up him,” she says. 

“Oh but I do,” Akira says solemnly because really, that’s exactly what’s happening, and he enjoys too much being in the lead to stop now. 

“Do you even like half the things you’re doing?” Ryuji says, and Akira pauses, thinking to himself. 

In all honesty, not really. They aren’t things he enjoys in themselves but there’s still something fun about the dates, even if given the option they aren’t his thing. 

“I like spending time with Goro,” he says, and as he does, his email pings. 

_ You’re so in love, it’s gross and boring.  _

Akira sighs, then swivels around in his chair looking at the ceiling. 

“I think Futaba’s testing out equipment again,” he says to nothing and Ann starts looking at the ceiling too, while Ryuji groans, going back to his work. Sure enough, when Akira finishes his scan, there’s another email.

_ My bugs are everywhere, you cannot escape. Although all you do is talk about Akechi lately, which is dull.  _

“I mean you could go bug someone else?” Akira suggests, and Ann snorts from behind him. 

_ What makes you think I haven’t? What makes you think I don’t have inside information on the exact place you could take him for your next date? _

Akira freezes and grimaces, before wondering if Futaba actually has bugged Akechi’s office, as he’s pretty sure that breaks several rules. But Futaba always seems to have a set of rules she has to answer to that work for no one else. Before he can contemplate any further, his email lights up again. 

_ My fee is coffee and curry. Haru needs to pay in cake, I can also help solve her romance problems. Honestly, you’d all be useless without me! _

“I’m pretty sure this is cheating, but sure, what the hell,” Akira says, and receives an email full of cat pictures in reply. 

* * *

Goro is busy with work, but they do manage one more date before Akira arranges to see Futaba, ending with an extremely sweet but hesitantly chaste goodnight kiss that leaves him rather too giddy for the fact it’s only a shade off platonic. But he’s also at a complete loss of where to go from here, unless he actually wants to bankrupt himself. 

“Why can’t you just take him to the arcade?” Sumi says, eating her third sandwich. 

“Because we’re adults,” he says, and she glares at him. 

“We went to the arcade yesterday. We spent our entire Sunday there, you won four plushies,” she says, and Futaba makes a noise of protest. 

“You both went to the arcade without me?” she says, and Akira can’t tell if she’s more upset about the plushie she did not get, the fact she didn’t come to the arcade or the fact she didn’t do something with Sumi. Honestly, Futaba talks a great game but she’s just as useless as the rest of them. 

“I tried to call you but you didn’t pick up,” Sumi says sadly, and Futaba splutters, turning red, before looking at Akira. 

“A-anyway, you should invite him to the arcade. I think he’d like it, and you can show off, seeing as you like doing that,” she says. 

“Really? That’s your intel?” he asks, truly not being able to imagine Goro anywhere near an arcade. 

“Do you wanna go rock climbing? Because he spends way too much time scaling walls like a spider,” she says. 

Akira tries to imagine himself rock climbing and fails, seeing as he’s not sure he really wants to be up that high with a blank void he can just fall off behind him. He shudders, that’s probably not something he wants to suggest. 

“Right, so. Trust me with arcade,” she says, and Akira makes a face, so she rolls her eyes and stands up. 

“Fine, don’t listen to me, I’ll go help Haru get a date,” she says, pushing back her chair. Haru, who is on the other side of her store, almost drops the plant she’s holding. 

“I don’t think I need help,” she says, but Futaba marches up anyway. 

Akira leaves her to it, then unconsciously steals Sumi’s cake, which he thinks he’s owed through the stress, but she gives him a horrified look, and he knows he’s probably on her shit list. Not a good prospect. 

He gets up and wanders around the store aimlessly. It’s late in the afternoon, and Ann is working with her headphones on, the only one of them who actually sticks to deadlines. Igor has a soft spot for Akira, so he tends to get away with more than he should. When he sits down, she looks up, pulling them off. 

“Did Futaba stop helping,” she says, and laughs at whatever face he pulls. 

“Seriously, though. You should stop trying to take him to impressive places and just be you. And don’t give me any excuses about being too busy; if I can do it, you can. Also none of that he prefers Joker thing,” she says, countering every argument he may have. 

“Although you should probably brush up on some of those moves pretty soon,” she says with a grin and he stares at her in muted shock. 

“Do not start,” he threatens, but she ignores him utterly. 

“Do you still have the outfit? You should definitely break out those pants again,” she says, barely making it through the sentence without laughing once more. At least his life is amusing to someone. 

He buys Sumi a new cake, which she accepts, and the three of them set up an actual workspace, trying to get through the rest of their own admin, occasionally requesting help of the other. The door chimes a few times, and Akira gives up looking as people start coming in on their way out of work, a buzz around them which actually helps Akira work faster. It’s nice too, knowing that Haru’s shop is doing well. 

“Oh hey, Sumi, you just came up on my Twitter feed,” Ann says turning her laptop round, causing both to look up. 

“Is it weird seeing yourself on merch?” Akira says, and she shrugs. 

“I’m sort of used to it, I’ve had posters up for a year now, but at first it really was odd,” she says, and Ann clicks on the link. 

“This poster is so cute! But it must be weird knowing you're up on people’s walls somewhere,” she says, and Sumi laughs. 

“I’m not sure how many people have posters of gymnasts in their room,” she says, and Ann laughs, still scrolling through. 

“Well, if Akira had one of a TV detective, I think people would have some of you,” she says, and Akira rolls his eyes. 

“Do you still have your Akechi poster?” Sumi adds, and Akira is just about to counter this with...something witty he’s sure when a loud smash captures their attention. 

He turns, and blinks for a moment, unsure he’s actually seeing Goro Akechi in the store, near their table with a broken plant pot he most likely just dropped. They both stare at each other, before Goro blinks, face turning red and a quiet “oh,” slipping out as he bends to clear up the plant. 

“He...didn’t just hear me, did he?” Sumi whispers to Akira, looking frantic, and a hot bolt of fear goes through him, so Akira stands and moves over to Akechi, just as Haru appears with a broom. 

“I’m so sorry, I’ll pay,” he says as she appears, not meeting Akira’s eyes. 

“Oh don’t worry, accidents happen. I think I can replant it,” she says, in that tone which screams ‘please don’t try to help anymore and let me do it,’ which has them both straightening and giving her space. 

Goro hovers for a moment, and Akira sighs, deciding it’s best to bite the bullet. 

“Do you want to go outside?” he asks, and Goro’s eyes flicker to his before he nods, Akira having to double back quickly to collect his things, Ann and Sumi giving him encouraging parting looks. He passes Makoto on the way out, who watches him go with a sympathetic glance. At least that explains Goro’s presence. 

Outside is cool and darker than Akira remembers, but it doesn’t help the tension which sits between them as they walk aimlessly. As usual though, Goro is the one to break the silence. 

“So, you clearly liked me a lot in high school,” he says, with an edge. Akira feels his face flush despite the chill.

“Yeah. It’s embarrassing, actually. My friends have too many stories,” he mutters, then Goro  stops , turning to him. Akira is surprised at the venom in his expression, and he just about prevents himself from taking a step back.

“Is that what this is then? A...recreation of your teenage desires?” he says. 

“What? No,” Akira says, then tips his head up to the sky for inspiration. He’s really not good at the talking thing. 

“I may have had a crush on your TV personality at fifteen, fine. And of course therefore I recognised you. But I’ve been on dates with  _ you _ . Not...you on camera, or some person I imagined you to be. You who mocks pretentious art critics and choked on a tabasco cocktail I dared you to buy,” he says, and hates how hard it is to do this, even if it’s vital to get these feelings out. 

Goro’s just staring at him, which makes it even worse, and he suddenly recalls how much easier it is to perform with a mask, and he feels his thoughts turn bitter. 

“I guess I must have been a disappointment,” he ventures, and Goro seems to visibly shake himself back to earth. 

“What?” he says, and Akira smiles sadly. Seeing as they’re divulging truths, might as well get it all out there. 

“You met me being Joker. I’m...well, Akira’s pretty boring,” he says, going back to playing with his hair, nerves flaring. 

“Are you an idiot?” Goro snaps, and Akira is not prepared for being insulted, and it seems Goro is taken aback by his own words, holding his hands up to Akira as if he’s about to flee. 

“I mean, you are Joker. Which is a terrible stage name by the way, but you still talk to me in the same way you did in the bar, sometimes. They’re different sides of you, I don’t prefer one over the other,” he says, explaining this as if Akira is truly a pain, yet the way his eyes keep glancing toward him tells another story. 

A smile pulls at Akira’s lips, and he steps forward, Goro eyeing him warily. 

“I’m glad. Also you should know, I’m really bad at fancy dates. I nearly fell asleep in the opera,” he adds and Goro shakes his head. 

“Good, I can’t stand another pretentious bar,” he says, and Akira takes the plunge, reaching forward to grip his hand. 

“Want to go to the arcade?” he asks, and Goro’s expression sends a thrill as that competitive gleam in his eye returns. 

“I don’t know, Akira, I have high scores on three different machines, do you really think that’s a good idea?” he croons, and Akira feels his pace speed up, immediately needing to beat every high score and wipe that confidence away. 

“I think you’re in for a rude awakening,” he says, pulling Goro along, who lets out one of those real laughs, echoing in Akira’s mind as they make their way to the arcade. 

Goro is not exaggerating, and Akira’s years spent playing various games does not prepare him for such mastery. Goro seems to be a regular at this place, which is not one of the huge, multi-storey arcades in the main square, but a somewhat older place, still hosting a variety of well cared for machines. 

It’s fun, and although Akira hadn’t lied in saying he’s been enjoying every date with Goro, this is so much better with the fact they aren’t following some sort of preconceived notion of what they should do. It’s freeing, just as competitive, but in a different way, Akira feeling so much more relaxed and, by just how ruthless and taunting Goro is, he thinks the feeling is mutual. 

It’s dark when they leave, hand in hand, something undiscussed but gravitational, Goro giving Akira a rundown of the level he’d failed at in their last game. 

“I’ll definitely have to start practicing now I’m around more,” he says, and Goro smiles, clearly happy with that idea. 

“Yes, I suppose you do have more evenings free now you’re not…” his voice trails off, and Akira grins, turning to walk backwards, gripping his head. 

“You can say it, you know,” he teases, and Goro scoffs, looking unimpressed. 

“I believe you called it dancing, last time. While taking your shirt off,” he says and the whole construction of the sentence is so ridiculous, Akira bursts out laughing, pulling Goro closer. 

“It’s called burlesque,” he teases, pushing a fallen strand of hair from Goro’s eyes, just to see his expression. 

“Well you seemed to be rather practiced at it,” he says, eyes flicking down and Akira’s hand moves from his head to his cheek. 

“Hm, I did rehearse hard,” he says, and he can feel Goro’s intake of breath as everything grows warmer the closer they draw to one another. 

“Although, I usually reserve taking clothes off for...special people,” Akira says, grinning widely at the way Goro’s face moves through surprise to frustration, and then it ticks up into something that sends sparks racing though him. 

“Considering you were looking at me, during that performance, I’ll have to draw certain conclusions,” he says, and then brushes his lips just across Akira’s so fleeting and light it shouldn’t be able to make his shudder as much as it does. 

“You are the detective, sounds like you already have your answer,” Akira says, and Goro apparently has had enough of speaking, for her surges across the remaining space into the inevitable kiss. 

It’s different from any other kiss they’re shared; a pattern for the night, all hesitancy gone, this one drawing Akira under and further, succumbing to the fall faster than he thinks any other kiss might have done so before. He has to hold on, capturing Goro by the shoulders, who in turn drags him forward by his jacket, as if they could eliminate all space between them by will alone. 

Goro kisses almost frantically, yet deep, as if there’s no time and all time at once, Akira chasing every second in the same manner. His hands move from Goro’s shoulders to his hair, feeling it bunch and slide through his fingers as their lips bruise with action. 

When they part, Akira leans forward to rest his forehead against Goro’s who is still gripping his jacket, yet determinedly keeping his eyes closed. Akira leans back, and Goro reluctantly does so too. 

“You’re special,” he says, quiet and careful, because it’s true on many levels that he hasn’t fathomed how yet, but knows instinctively. 

Goro’s eyes are hazy, but his mind is sharp, and he laughs once. “Is that an invitation?” he says, sliding back up to Akira, whose hands rub down his sides, keeping contact. 

“If you can fit me into your schedule,” he says, trying to ignore the way his pulse vibrates under his skin, mouth dry instantly. 

Goro pulls back, suddenly, leaving Akira’s arms flopping uselessly down, raising a hand to his chin. 

“Hmm, I’ll need to check my calendar, Akira, I’ll get back to you,” he says, then smirks and walks past Akira, back towards the main street. 

Akira chokes, watching Goro walk away for a second, before having to jog to catch up with him. As he does, Goro’s hand flicks out to capture his, and Akira smiles to himself. 

Perhaps Ann is right, he’ll need to brush up on his dancing skills.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter will be here before Christmas, but for now, follow me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the Joker costume. 
> 
> His fingers type before he can even think of making them settle: _keep it._
> 
> He doesn’t regret the decision to say that, even when the chat shows Akira is responding immediately. 
> 
> _That was quick. I’m not sure though, these pants are pretty tight, I’m struggling to get them off._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! And finally we get to the E rating haha. Thank you SO much for all the support, it's been fun to write this. 
> 
> It's now a series! Part 2 is written, and will be coming over the next few weeks. So if you enjoyed this AU, feel free to subscribe <3 
> 
> Tags have been updated to reflect what happens in this chapter, so please check them out. 
> 
> Lastly, thank you to the amazing MxTicketyBoo for betaing, you are wonderful.

It’s past 11.30pm on a Wednesday, and Goro is still working. Well, that’s not precisely true, his brain stopped working almost an hour ago and his fingers stopped being able to type, too shaky from the caffeine, before that. Yet he’s still in the office, still nowhere near going home and letting this day end. 

Part of that is due to the fact he’s making out with his boyfriend, but he’s pretty happy with that element of the situation. 

Akira came to check on him when he heard he was working late yet again, as Goro’s friends cannot be trusted with information. Goro doesn’t need Akira checking on him; he has Makoto and Yusuke doing that already, and he’s an adult, he can work all the hours he needs, health advice be damned. 

But it did warm his heart somewhat when Akira turned up with herbal tea (which is glorified perfume water that Goro will not be touching, thank you) and a pleading gaze telling him that maybe it was time to finish, seeing as he’s barely been home in the past week. 

Apparently Goro is weak to kind gestures, grey eyes and sharp smiles, as he’d considered giving in and allowing Akira to escort him out of the building. Except now they’re making out. He’s a bit fuzzy on precisely how they arrived here. 

It’s a thing that happens when Akira kisses him; his mind, usually one that will not shut down without chemical intervention, hyper focuses on only sensation; on the way Akira’s mouth moves against his, the way his hands trail, almost burning through their clothes, down his back and across his sides. He’s punch-drunk on the feelings, all dizzying shards of exploration and electric light, his breath being stolen with every touch and gasp. 

Akira makes a sound, a half moan that’s too quiet to fully form and Goro kisses back hard, wanting to draw it out once more. In response Akira’s hands move up to his waist, squeezing once before slowly pushing, a gentle guide so Goro starts walking backwards. He’s not one usually to be lead, but this feels good today, the crowding and taking, the back of his legs hitting a solid object making his body jolt. 

He breaks the kiss, room spinning, and has just enough time to see Akira smirk before he bends slightly, arms loosening, and for a second Goro doesn’t know what’s happening until he’s elevated. 

It’s barely a second, but Akira picks him up and places him on his own desk before slotting himself between his legs and going back to kiss him again. Goro moans then, embarrassingly loud, and in response Akira grips him tighter, pulling him closer with a harsh tug, and all of this is doing a lot for him. 

Goro’s not used to being manhandled in any way; he’s pretty strong, it’s not that easy to lift him and until this moment, he wouldn’t have said he particularly liked it. But as Akira is wont to do, he’s causing all Goro’s preconceived notion of anything to spiral out of control, so he bites a little at Akira’s mouth, who draws back at the motion. 

“Bitey,” he comments, voice rough, and Goro smiles his best TV smile. 

“I do apologise,” he says, his voice taking on a shocked and high tone, but Akira says nothing, does not take the bait for once, just leans down and instead starts placing extremely small kisses just under his ear. 

That makes him shiver, his legs gripping onto Akira’s tightly as the feelings spin all the way to his toes. In response Akira’s kisses move, downwards at the same maddening soft pressure, that oddly makes his whole body light up, press closer, ever closer. 

“Akira,” he whispers, doesn’t even know he can make that sort of breathless noise, and Akira exhales against his throat as he does, another shiver passing through. 

It’s slow and gentle and once again not what Goro usually likes, not what he usually initiates and it's...confusing now, to be thrown so off balance and a sudden rush of not quite panic, but a close cousin surges through. He needs to be grounded, to go back to something he knows, so pulls back, but  flails slightly, the aim to pull Akira back to him for a kiss, and instead misses, and his hands  strike out to catch himself, sending something crashing off his desk. 

They both stop instantly, the sound shattering the mood and Akira looking down while Goro freezes on the desk. He’s suddenly extremely aware he’s sitting on case files and what feels like a pen. 

“Oh, that was my glasses. Suppose I deserved that,” Akira says, and sighs as he lets go of Goro to pick them up. 

Goro’s hands actually twitch by his side, wanting to reach out and pull Akira back to him. He clenches them, quickly returning them downwards as Akira collects his glasses. When he stands, he holds them up, one of the lenses smashed. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I’ll replace them,” Goro says, getting off his desk as Akira shrugs. 

“It’s fine, they weren’t expensive,” he says, and Goro feels guilt rise as Akira carefully tucks them away.

“Can you see enough without them?” he asks. He’s never seen Akira without his glasses except for on stage, so has sudden concerns he’ll have to lead him home. 

Akira looks up from behind his hair, a habit Goro has noticed whenever he’s nervous or trying to shy away from something, which happens a lot more than it should, in his opinion. There’s clearly something to that, but it’s far too early to pry into that sort of thing. 

“They’re fake,” he says, and looks away, as Goro stares. 

“You wear fake glasses,” he says, the words come out just as deadpan as the notion feels. 

Akira shrugs, pulling on his hair, the other nervous habit. “I started doing it in high school, I kinda got used to them,” he says. 

It’s not the weirdest thing that Goro’s heard, but he feels as if, much like the habits, there is something more to that than aesthetics. However he simply shakes his head. 

“I take it back, I’m not paying for your fake glasses, Akira,” he says, turning back to his desk and rearranging the papers, now the reality of making out on his desk at work hitting him. He’s sure there are security cameras, a look around hesitantly. 

“You did knock them over,” Akira says, and that tease is back in his voice. 

“And why exactly was I even on the desk in the first place?” he says, and hands drape around his neck, pulling him back into Akira’s chest, stilling his movements. 

“You weren’t exactly complaining five minutes ago,” he whispers into Goro’s ear, the hair on the back of his neck rising. 

But the tiredness is in his limbs and mind now, along with the fear of having this recorded for Sae to see what he’s been doing after hours. 

“I have revised my opinion of the situation,” he says, attempting to untangle Akira, but he’s apparently hell bent on hanging on, and all Goro manages to do is twist around, so now Akira is facing him, kissing distance away and he’s once again pushed against the desk. 

But this time it’s a simple, slow action when their mouths meet, warmth without heat that makes a different type of fluttering carry through. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long. Plus I’m out of town next week,” Akira says, and Goro finds his joy ebbing. 

He has been busy, it’s true. Not good for an early relationship, and not a precedence he wants to set. There has been a mutual understanding that their schedules will be tough. They have similar jobs, they both understand the commitment. But it's one thing to say it, and experience it when alone. It's another to live it. 

This is why until now, Goro has been perfectly happy with fleeting things that barely involve spending the morning with someone. This is tricky, already coming up against barriers. But it’s better, his heart whispers, his emotions kicking in. 

“When you get back, my workload will be easier,” he says, for it will, he’ll make sure of that seeing as he needs to prioritize this relationship. 

Akira brightens almost automatically at that, causing Goro to sigh. He gets so incredibly excited at times, it’s endearing.

“I can cook for you,” he says, and steps away still looking pleased while Goro gapes. 

“Oh no, you don’t need to put yourself through so much trouble,” he says, and can feel his cheeks heating up at the invitation. 

Being cooked dinner by a boyfriend, the most domestic and sweet sounding thing or just the prospect of being alone in a place that is not his office, he’s not sure which. Considering what would happen in his office, he can clearly picture what would happen in Akira’s home. 

He coughs, going back to organising. 

“I want to. I promise I’m a good cook, and I’ll have time to do it. Unless you really hate the idea,” Akira says, and Goro looks up, a little startled. 

“No if...if you wish, then we can do that,” he says, immediately becoming awkward, and he hates how much Akira can make him stumble over words, things he’s always been such a master of. 

“It’s a date then,” Akira says, and Goro is back to being exasperated at how excited he is. 

He cannot help but look for cameras as he leaves, but can’t see any, wonders if he should be worried about having a job in the morning. They make their way to the station hand in hand hurrying their steps a little as the time pushes closer to midnight. 

“I have to get up so early,” Akira moans as they take their seats, the train fairly empty. 

“What is this team retreat you’re going on?” he asks, and Akira drips his head onto Goro’s shoulder, shrugging. 

“Who knows, Igor planned it. Last time we ended up in a castle trying to escape some maze he set up. Was pretty fun,” he says, and Goro really isn’t sure Akira’s idea of work time fun is the same as anyone’s. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your boss,” he says and Akira looks up, grinning. 

“Everyone says that,” is all Goro gets in reply, when Akira grimaces, glancing at the map. 

“My stop is next. Don’t fall asleep on your way back, and please try and work a normal schedule when I’m not here to stop you,” he says. 

“You didn’t exactly stop me, you just interrupted me,” he says, and Akira grins, leaning forward to kiss him, deep and bruising just as the train starts to slow. 

“I’ll miss you,” he says with a wink as they part, and Goro doesn’t know if the teasing is something he should return when he genuinely will miss Akira, even if it's only for a short time. 

He’s far too attached. It’s a concern. 

“Good luck,” he says, and Akira laughs, standing. 

“I’ll send you pictures, hopefully it's somewhere cool again,” he says, then waves once as the train doors open, Goro lifting a hand in return. 

Despite Akira’s words, he does end up falling asleep, but his many years of doing so means he wakes up in time for his stop. He stumbles out of the station, phone regaining signal to find two messages. One from Akira with a series of kissing emojis, and another from Futaba. 

_ Your desk is for working detective, don’t sully my eyes again!! _

Goro nearly breaks the phone in half, wondering why everyone he knows at work is so ridiculously weird. 

* * *

It’s quiet without Akira, Ann and Ryuji. It should really be no different than before, Goro has worked here for a long time without knowing them. But their lives have apparently been so intertwined that their presence leaves an absence that cannot be filled. 

True to his word, Akira does send photos. They appear to be doing tours of haunted locations, and on Wednesday, Goro is being sent some rather creepy photos of an old jail they discovered fifty years ago, abandoned with no record of it ever existing. The fact that Akira is sending him selfies is weirder in itself. 

“I have been instructed to tell you to eat,” Yusuke says, appearing at 2pm, when Goro has in fact not had lunch yet. 

Makoto laughs from her own desk. “Have you eaten yet, Yusuke?” she asks, and he shakes his head. 

“That is another reason for us to find some sustenance,” he says, and Goro resigns himself to buying Yusuke yet another meal. 

As if by habit they stop by Haru’s cafe, who brightens on seeing them. 

“I have sandwiches left, and Akira will be happy you’re eating,” she says, starting to make them coffees without their asking. 

“You are all aware I am an adult who existed perfectly well before Akira turned up?” he says, grinding his teeth a little. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say well, Goro. You passed out at your desk a few times, dated that terrible guy who owned the expensive bike, got stabbed-” 

“Stabbed?!” Haru says, and Goro shakes his head. 

“A glancing wound,” he says at the horrified face she’s making. 

“A near fatal one, I started planning his mourning flowers, I still have the sketch just in case,” Yusuke says. 

The truth is something in between both, he still has the scar, but Yusuke’s dramatics have done their trick and Haru is clearly now going to be added to the list of people checking up on him. There’s also no doubt Akira will hear about this too. 

“Yes well, that was some time ago and my current workload is not in the field, it’s more research based,” he says, and that seems to dispel some of Haru’s concern, as she goes back to making drinks. 

“Go sit down!” she calls, and although Goro had actually planned on getting take away and eating at his desk, he knows he’ll be outnumbered. 

As he sits, his phone buzzes, a message from Akira without any further photos of what looked like used execution equipment. 

_ Looks like we’re heading home later tonight, although we have to do a warehouse clear out all Thursday :( But are you free Friday night? _

Goro’s heart skips over, a sudden dryness to his mouth. Friday, earlier than he’d assumed and this is a good thing, but it doesn’t stop something between nerves and anticipation passing through. 

“Akira?” Yusuke asks, making him jump. 

“Yes, apologies,” Goro replies, putting his phone away. Yusuke shakes his head. 

“I don’t mind, it’s good to see you happy. Akira seems to be a good person, and you seem happy,” he says, and Goro’s lips tilt upwards. 

“It does appear that way,” he says, because voicing it seems too risky, too much too soon, that he’ll wake up one day and all of this will vanish, it’s been such an odd train of events. 

“I still have that painting, you know,” Yusuke adds, and Goro shakes his head. 

“I didn’t ask you for a painting,” he says, a little concerned of what this painting might be like given how Yusuke has described it. 

“It is my gift to you,” he says, and thank god for Haru turning up at that moment. 

“Here, please enjoy,” she says, bringing not only the sandwiches, but cake and fruit. Goro feels as if he’s just been given a children’s lunchbox, but it’s sweet all the same. 

“Thank you, I appreciate you taking the time,” he says, as Yusuke starts inhaling his food. 

“Oh no problem, and it’s not too crowded. Akira already paid, so just take your time,” she says with a laugh and Goro pulls out his phone. 

_ Thank you for lunch, but you don’t really don’t have to buy it for me. I will be free Friday. Hope the trip is going well _

There’s silence for a moment as they both take time over their meals, Goro actually feeling some of the buzz in his mind calm with the break from his office and the building in general. It’s calming, Haru’s shop, the plants and flowers, the soft music that floats through as well as the delicious food. It makes him realise just how much he needs breaks every so often. 

“I know what you’re looking into.” 

Goro turns to Yusuke slowly, and places down his coffee. Yusuke just looks back at him, unblinking. 

“I met a witness today on a harassment charge. A tough one, the man has covered his tracks well. But I did notice the files were accessed by your department,” he says, and looks over at Goro, clearly waiting. 

“I’m aware, and the CCTV footage is not informative. Clearly someone knew what they were doing when they picked both the location and the victim. It’s a rather familiar pattern,” he says, and Yusuke leans forward. 

“It’s not him, Goro,” he says quietly, and Goro hand shakes where it sits before him. He clenches it, removing it to sit under the table, Yusuke’s eyes tracking the motion, before looking back up to him. 

“It’s not. He’s in jail,” Yusuke repeats, and Goro hates that they’ve had this conversation before enough for his friend to know what tone and words to use. 

“I am aware of that, I checked myself. But they never caught the others in his circle, or at least not all of them. And the case is similar enough to cause some concern, do you not think?” he says, and Yusuke shakes his head. 

“These things happen too often, Goro. It’s why we’re here, to prevent it. It is not the same,” he says again, and Goro feels his nerves rising. 

“Perhaps so, but I know they’re out there. Maybe not this time, maybe not today, but they will come out of the woodwork. Trash always does,” he says, feeling that rage and regret which fuelled him as a teenager roar to life. 

But Yusuke, still as unshakable as ever, does not rise to the bait. He waits a few seconds, and in that time the fire burns a little cooler, enough for him to not want to smash everything within his range to pieces. 

“Goro I’m worried about you. I know the case against him almost fell through when you were young, and they’ve always maintained others were involved. But it’s been years, and none have returned. No more crimes, no more manipulation on the same scale. You cannot keep chasing ghosts,” he says, severe in the way only Yusuke can be. 

He’s always underestimating Yusuke. He’d never call them close, but that’s untrue. Yusuke knows him, they know each other, a fact brought up from pasts of loss and pain in childhood that they both seem to have revealed, piece by piece over time. 

It’s hard, he thinks, to trust and to admit these bonds exist. He tries to prevent them, actively sees himself doing it and often cannot stop. But he’s happy at least this one has remained. 

“I may be looking into similar cases from time to time, but I haven’t done anything. There isn’t anything I can do,” he says, trying to be soothing without lying. 

Yusuke contemplates him for a second, the stare almost making Goro squirm when he nods once. 

“If you do find something, I request you tell me. I don’t want you to do anything alone,” he says, and it’s the most understanding thing anyone may have said. 

He nods, doesn’t trust himself to speak, and the afternoon is easier that way, and in some ways, easier to leave that particular line of investigation alone. He may have become a detective for one reason, and fate or luck gave him that shove into the system early on. But he is actually good at what he does, and he should focus on his actual cases so he can make sure he leaves at a reasonable time on Friday. 

Which of course means Thursday is busy, as he suddenly has to cram in meetings and reports to make sure there is no chance he works late on Friday. Makoto is on board with him doing this, even if it means one day of him being frazzled, so picks up lunch for him. Haru really does pack him a lunchbox this time, with an actual note wishing him a good afternoon. He doesn’t quite know what to do with that. 

Just after Goro’s mid afternoon meeting, his phone lights up with a photo from Akira, of which for some reason, he and Ann are wearing full skiing outfits. Before he can wonder, Akira sends a follow up saying  _ clear out means we try on everything we’re going to throw away.  _

Of course, this isn’t the last message. Akira sends a flurry of photos of just himself or the other two in outfits they have used for missions in the past. There are apparently a lot, ranging from some very fancy formal wear they’ve all been allowed to keep, and some awful loud print shirts that Ann has spent the past hour trying to prevent Ryuji from keeping. 

It’s a sweet accompaniment to the afternoon, and does help Goro get through his remaining work. Every so often he checks his messages, and adds his opinion as to whether or not it’s worth keeping outfits and random objects. 

_ I’m not sure about this one _ , says one message that Goro is not particularly paying attention to, but when the image arrives less than a minute later, he promptly drops his phone. 

It’s the Joker costume. 

No mask this time, but Akira’s holding his phone up to the mirror smirking, those pants just as tight as Goro remembers, but in the harsh yellow light of wherever Akira’s changing he can see the way they cling to his legs and hips in much more detail than he ever did in the dim bar. 

Then there’s the vest, Akira managing to hold his phone in a way which makes his bicep flex and Goro is once again just staring at his arms, always so hidden in the loose clothing he normally wears to work. He swallows, taking in the fact Akira’s left the top of the vest undone, showing off a slight glimmer of collar bone, and all this must be entirely on purpose. 

His fingers type before he can even think of making them settle:  _ keep it.  _

He doesn’t regret the decision to say that, even when the chat shows Akira is responding immediately. 

_ That was quick. I’m not sure though, these pants are pretty tight, I’m struggling to get them off.  _

Goro chokes on air, then looks around to check no one in the office is looking at him strangely, but thankfully it appears they either didn’t hear or do not care. Makoto is not at her desk, so at least the nearest person can’t hear. When he looks back at his phone, the light flickers indicating a new message, and Goro checks once more than he’s in no danger of being accidentally seen. 

It's another picture. This time, Akira appears to have attempted to take off the pants, which are indeed extremely tight, as they don’t seem to have budged much, even with him hooking his thumb in the unzipped pants to try and push them down. They’ve managed to get past his hip on one side, and Goro feels that weird urge to bite rise in his stomach, the exposed skin making his entire body heat up. Yet again, adding the list of things Akira does to him that no one else appears to have managed so far. 

The pants are still high on the other hip, and they’re straining from the stretch of Akira pulling at them so much, so Goro knows it’s a ruse without even looking at the smirk on his boyfriend’s face, but the lie is more delicious than the truth. 

_ You’ve done one side fine, _ he sends and doesn’t even bother pretending to do work, just waits for Akira’s response. 

_ And now they’re stuck! Plus it’s hot in this room, I might be here forever, _ sends Akira and Goro is almost laughing until the third picture arrives and he grips his phone so tightly he accidentally locks it, then has to scrabble to open it once more. 

This time, Akira has managed to undo some of the buttons on his vest, and is pulling his hair back from his face as if he really is too hot. Goro swallows, hard, and feels himself blush as the pants are still halfway down one hip, permanently stuck in the position Akira’s left them in. 

It hits him at once that Akira isn’t wearing underwear. 

Or at least, no type of underwear that allows someone to see it half way to his hip, and either the idea of him being naked or wearing something extremely small has Goro’s blood running south, and dear god,  _ he can’t get hard at work _ . That’s not okay. 

They’ve made out at desks, gone on a series of dates, and this is the most skin Goro’s ever seen of Akira outside of Crossroads. Through a photo he’s receiving at work, in the middle of the day, where he can do nothing except stare, pine and deal with some really uncomfortable physical sensations. 

Reality comes back with a literal slam as a series of letters are thrown onto his desk. 

Goro yelps, looks up, just as Makoto looks at him, grimacing from behind a series of files. 

“Sorry, tried to carry too much! You have fanmail again,” she says, and Goro groans as she quickly marches back to her desk, depositing the files and ringing out her hands. He takes the moment to lock his phone and put it in his pocket in case of anything else occurring before looking at the letters. 

He doesn’t really have a fanclub, although some did exist when he was a teenager. The odd piece of mail still does come through regularly enough for Makoto to know when it is, and this does nothing to help the reputation he’s trying to build. 

She leans over his shoulder as he opens the three letters. One is a beg for an attendance at his old high school by a current pupil, which he’ll politely decline, another is a sweet letter from someone who liked a TV segment he did last month, which just involves some cooing from Makoto and the final one is-

“That’s odd, did someone send you feathers?” she says, and Goro sighs. 

This one has been happening for years, some person who sends him occasional poems and feather made things. Necklaces, key chains and sometimes just feathers arranged artfully or stuck by the poems. This one is just three dark features stuck to a card, and Goro shrugs before placing it aside. 

“I used to get sent all sorts of odd things. Underwear, engagement rings, key cards to hotels. This is perfectly fine,” he says, and Makoto looks horrified. 

“You really do have an entirely different perspective on things, if anyone sent me their underwear if I didn’t ask for it, I’d be scared,” she says, and he grins. 

“What about if you did ask?” he says, and she narrows her eyes, before walking away without another word. 

Goro laughs to himself, then puts the fanmail away, and goes back to his phone. There’s nothing new there, and he’s slightly more prepared for Akira’s look this time, although he cannot deny it still makes him burn. 

_ Looks like you’re stuck like that then _ , Goro says, not giving in to whatever Akira is trying to pull. 

This response takes a little time, but soon enough Akira responds with w _ell I’m glad you like it, I’ll probably still be wearing it tomorrow_ , and Goro just about stops himself from typing _you’d better_ _be_ in response. 

_ I’ll cope _ , he says instead, and decides that’s all the time for conversation he has if he wants to make it to their date tomorrow. 

He may spend some time that evening staring at the photo though, perhaps specifically where Akira’s vest and pants show snippets of something he hopes to see soon. But no one needs to know that. 

* * *

Akira is not wearing his Joker outfit when Goro arrives the next day. Instead he’s wearing a simple white shirt and black pants, still no glasses seeing as Goro knows his secret, and his hair is a little damp and curling at the ends. It’s a soft, sweet look and so very different from the photos Goro’s been staring at it takes him a moment to equate the two sides. 

“Hey, you,” Akira says with a smile, literally pulling Goro inside his apartment with an arm around his waist. 

“Good evening,” he manages, just about enough time to get the words out before Akira kisses him, sweet but deep, Goro’s eyes fluttering shut instantly, comfort slipping in as he draws closer. 

Akira pulls back too quickly for Goro’s liking, eyes shining and Goro taps his arm. 

“Are you going to cling onto me all night?” he says and Akira hums as if in contemplation. 

“Yeah, probably,” he says and Goro stares back at him, ignoring the fact his body utterly disobeys his feelings and leans forward at that. 

“Entirely impractical, how annoying,” he says and Akira laughs, dropping a kiss on his cheek. 

“Missed you too, honey. Come on in, I’ll give a quick tour,” he says and Goro is sad at the loss of Akira warmth as he toes off his shoes, hanging his coat up and following him inside. 

It’s a nice place, warm and light, Akira’s furniture that mix of splurging and scrimping. There’s one very nice couch, but a lot of rickety shelves haphazardly filled with books and nicknacks, a few framed photos that seem well cared for. There’s a TV with games consoles stored underneath, and the living room leads into a much larger kitchen area, which backs up Akira’s statement he likes to cook. 

Things are sizzling away, and there’s a small high table able to seat four at a pinch, but today laid out for two. There’s already salad, wine glasses and pitcher of water set up, and Goro feels his mouth twitch at the candles lit, giving it a soft glow. 

So much care, so much time, considering how much is laid out. He feels like he should have done more, so he quickly holds out the bag he brought with him. 

“I got wine, but I didn’t ask what was for dinner I’m afraid, so I’m not sure if it will pair well,” he says. 

Akira beams. “You didn’t have to. And it’s wine, it will go fine,” he says with a laugh, and puts it on the table.

Goro is interrupted from his staring at Akira with a sharp pinch to his leg. He jumps, hissing, and looks down to see a black and white cat staring up at him expectantly. 

“Mona, don’t claw Goro, your food is over there,” Akira says, and ushers the cat over to the other side of the kitchen, and Goro can swear it glares at him before it starts eating. 

“Your cat hates me,” he says, and Akira shakes his head. 

“No way, Mona loves everyone,” he says, and Goro can feel the little demon creature stare at him, even though when he looks back, Mona is happily eating. 

Akira makes him sit down after that, not allowing him to help at all, which is both sweet and also fussing in a way that might irritate him, he’s not sure yet. He sort of just wants Akira to sit still for two minutes, just be near him and have the focus he wants now they’re in a place so private, but he can’t express such a clingy need. 

Eventually, after what feels like eons, dinner is served. Even before he tastes it, Goro can tell Akira wasn’t boasting about cooking. It smells divine, the presentation is amazing, and yet he’s still fidgeting, clearly waiting for Goro’s approval. 

“You’ve outdone yourself,” he says, then takes it upon himself to pour the wine as Akira’s smile grows, and he pushes his hair out of his eyes. 

“Well, had to make a good impression tonight, it is the first time you’ve come over,” he says, and Goro ends up taking a giant sip of his wine, before offering a smile which he hopes is more stable than he feels.

He doesn’t really know how to follow that, the atmosphere charging as they eat. Every time Goro takes a glance over at Akira he’s being watched, small smiles and too long eye contact passed as they talk about random subjects. As soon as the food is done, Akira takes the wine and they move to the couch, Goro sinking slightly into Akira’s side, who immediately wraps an arm around his back and pulls him close. 

He tenses, just a bit, and internally curses himself. He’s so unaccustomed to this type of touch, it always stumbles him in the first instance, but once he forces his body to relax, he leans into Akira, who in turn curls a hand to play with the end of his hair. 

“Did you ask Haru to start making lunches for me?” he says, and Akira’s chest moves as he chuckles. 

“No, that would be her own decision. I did ask Yusuke to check you ate, though,” he says. 

“You know how ridiculous that is, asking someone who never remembers to eat to check I do?” Goro replies, and he knows Akira’s smiling even if he can’t see it. 

“I’m killing two birds with one stone. Although, Haru did tell me you got stabbed once.”

Goro groans, sitting up. “Your friends are chatty,” he says, and Akira takes a sip of his wine, glass almost empty, smiling all the while. 

“Yeah, I’m used to it, you just let it happen after a while,” he says, and Goro really doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to do that.

“Well, I did learn you have had a poster of me. You didn’t happen to bring it with you when you moved here? I could always sign it,” he says and enjoys the way Akira goes bright red, avoiding eye contact. 

“I was a teenager. You, on the other hand, have a portrait of me doing burlesque. So I don’t know who is the biggest fan out of the two of us,” he says and Goro tips his head. 

“Who says the picture will be flattering? You have no idea what use I may have for it,” he says and then immediately regrets it by the way Akira smirks, all teeth and glee. 

“Oh, I have an idea, I know how much you like my Joker outfit,” he says, and immediately Goro is imagining the photographs, exhaling shakily. 

“Perhaps. You did apparently manage to get it off,” he says, and somehow Akira has managed to slide closer, their legs touching now. 

“Hmm, it was a struggle. So hot in that changing room, the pants just...didn’t want to move,” he says, and Goro’s heart has picked up speed with the way Akira’s head seems to have tilted, so close and yet not far enough to give in. 

“You clearly had everything under control,” he says, and then his breath catches as Akira reaches out, fingers just dusting along his cheek. 

“Is this what you looked like?” he murmurs, as they trace across his jaw, the light touch making him tremble. “When I sent those photos?” 

Goro has no idea what to make of that sentence, but it doesn’t matter much as Akira doesn’t allow a moment to contemplate before he drives forward and kisses him. 

Unlike previously kisses, this is merciless, and Goro drowns on instant, mind completely unaware of anything other than how Akira pulls at him, drags him as if Goro isn’t already within his orbit. He can barely keep up with the kiss, but still tries to; a fight in a way, his hands going to tug possibly too sharply at Akira’s hair, who instead just moans and clutches Goro closer. 

He just cannot seem to get the upper hand as he has to try and breathe, the opportunity barely arising with how Akira commands the kiss, chasing and bringing him back again and again. His hands move from Goro’s shirt to slide down his back, Goro shivering at the touch, already sensitive. His back arches, and perhaps it’s the craving of sensation that means he doesn’t notice when Akira hands move lower until he’s tugged unceremoniously forward. 

He gasps, breaking the kiss and tipping forward, landing almost completely in Akira’s lap. 

“Excuse me?” he hisses, feeling his face heat, his whole body suddenly hot as he looks down at Akira, who smirks up, and lifts a hand. 

“Oh, did you need something?” he says, and lifts a hand to delicately tuck a strand of fallen hair behind his ear. 

“For you to stop assuming you can pull me whichever way you like,” he says, and Akira’s smirk just grows, and his hand cups Goro’s cheek. 

Goro still, confused at the sudden softness, then ends up letting out something close to a shudder, air releasing as Akira’s fingers smooth down his cheek to his jaw. 

“Hmm, something tells me you’re not too bothered. You like being touched...held…” he murmurs, before leaning up to the other side of Goro’s neck, holding Goro’s waist tight to reach. 

The dual sensation of the small, but deliberate kisses on his neck combined with being held in Akira’s lap has his body charging with energy, spikes and sparks sliding through. He tilts his neck, allowing Akira more access, as far as he can reach, which he accepts with a pleased hum that vibrates across Goro’s skin. 

Akira pulls back, and Goro’s chest is already heaving, his shirt strangely uncomfortable against his skin, not the type of feeling he wants when it’s not Akira touching him. 

“Or do you want me to stop?” Akira asks, and Goro ignores him in favour of bending his head for another kiss. 

Akira moans into it, and as he does, he rolls his hips upwards. Goro immediately ends up breaking the kiss he tried to start with another exhalation of something, and Akira laughs low in his throat, which makes Goro jerk almost as much as the need to get more friction where he’s becoming uncomfortably hard. 

“What exactly are you laughing at?” he says, wishing he didn’t sound so fucked out already. 

“You feel good,” Akira says, in that same quiet tone, as if this space they’re in is something that could shatter, precious and theirs, despite the entire apartment they have to themselves. 

As if to emphasise this, he rocks up again, and Goro’s voice catches. He leans down, almost desperate to cover Akira’s mouth in his, but Akira’s hands rise to hold at his neck, so he drops down, foreheads together, as they slowly move, and Goro can feel his flight response activating. 

This is...intimate. Close, they keep just getting closer, and this may be their first time, but yet it is not in any way a true first. By why is it like this? A feeling he can barely describe and keep in his head as Akira holds him in a way that’s firm but with an escape, the tenderness mixed with strength something he didn’t know until now could be so inviting. 

“Why don’t you let go?” he whispers, and Goro has so many answers to that but none of them for Akira’s hearing, so instead he grinds down hard, and they both moan in tandem. 

“Ah, aren’t you glad you don’t have those pants on?” Goro says, as Akira lets go of him in favour of clamping down on his waist to stop a repeat, all of which is far more in the territory Goro knows. 

Akira, despite the loudness from a moment ago, looks composed as he stares back. 

“I don’t think I’m the one thinking about that outfit. How many times have you imagined me in it since the first night?” he asks. 

“Zero,” Goro replies and Akira laughs, and Goro finds himself shocked that someone can laugh like that during foreplay. 

“I think you’re lying, Goro. You didn’t think about it at all? Remember any of my performance?” he says, and Goro shakes his head. 

“Utterly forgettable,” he remarks, and Akira blinks, then leans upwards, arms moving to twist in an almost embrace around him. 

“In that case, maybe I should remind you,” he says, and then immediately lifts Goro by the waist, just enough to almost drop him to the other seat of the couch, Akira swinging his legs forward. 

“You stay right there,” he says, and then springs to his feet, leaving Goro panting a little, cock now noticeably hard once he’s no longer sitting on Akira’s lap. 

“What are you doing?” he says, and tries for annoyance but he can hear the slight whine and Akira just tilts his head almost in confusion. 

“You said you didn’t remember the first time we met. So I’ll show you. I don’t have a pole here, but I think I can put on a little show, for you,” he says. 

“What the hell, Akira?” Goro practically yells, and Akira just smiles back sweetly, as if he’s offering Goro coffee and not a pole dance without a pole. 

“You’re not even wearing the outfit,” Goro says, leaning back on the couch, and Akira suddenly stalks forward and then leans over him, arms hitting the back of the couch and Goro’s breath catches. 

“I’m not sure you’ve been good enough for that yet,” he says. 

The words go straight down to his cock and Goro stutters as his body freezes, liquid warmth spreading. Akira’s eyes widen and he goes from teasing to elated, and Goro wants to curse this man for finding out that particular kink on the first go. 

“Oh, Goro,” he breathes and kisses him, Goro’s neck straining against the back of the couch as he’s almost forced back by Akira. 

It’s good though, every part of him having missed Akira’s closeness even for a few minutes, and now he’s back in his space. Goro reaches out and grabs on, only for Akira to break the kiss, wet sound echoing. He shakes his head and lifts off. 

“No touching, you’re just meant to watch,” he says, and then produces his phone from the back of his pocket, and manages to start playing a song Goro vaguely recognises in the time it takes his mind to come back to earth. 

“Really?” he manages, but Akira grins, already in his element. 

“It’s not the same, but use your imagination, honey. I’m sure you’ll remember how you watched me then,” he says, and immediately brings a hand to his hair, pushing it back as he moves forward. 

It’s not the same, not at all, but Goro realises in this moment that while Akira’s previous performance had been mostly athleticism, he can in fact, dance extremely well. His hips move with the beat, his body flowing in a way that tells Goro that he probably has some sort of training or experience in doing more than casual dancing, not to mention that he seems to thrive under any audience, even if it’s just him. 

It’s hot. Really hot, and not just because of how he moves but how he acts. That smirk, the way he manages to somehow be eye fucking Goro despite the fact that he’s watching, and ultimately, he starts making a show at touching himself. Everywhere. 

He undoes a few buttons, winding his hands down his own chest, across his thighs and keeps going back to his hair. He can see Akira take in air, like an almost gasp, chest moving and Goro can feel himself panting before he knows it. He wants to be doing that. More than anything, he wants to be the one touching skin, having Akira right back and under him, crowding him and holding him steady. 

But he’s been told not to touch or to move and that in itself seems to hold power as Akira undoes one more button and finally comes closer. 

“Look at you, so good for me just watching,” Akira says, slightly breathless as he straddles Goro’s legs, just hovering over, not quite touching. 

The ‘good’ resonates and he shudders, which he knows Akira sees but he’s already been caught. No point in trying to deny such reactions now. 

“Is this ringing any bells? Anything you want to tell me?” he says, as he tilts his hips forward in a slow roll on air, and Goro’s hands twitch by his sides in an effort to stay still. 

It takes a moment to gain enough moisture in his mouth to speak. “Perhaps...I may recall a few things,” he says, and Akira hums, nodding him on, still hovering over, which must be causing his things to burn right now but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“You weren’t wearing a shirt,” he says, words slipping out and it should have been more subtle but he’s losing the ability to think with Akira moving like that. 

“Ah yes, how could I have forgotten?” Akira says, then in one movement, just takes the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, throwing it somewhere behind. 

Goro watches as the expanse of skin appears before his eyes, once again drawn in particular to Akira’s shoulders and arms. He needs to get his mouth on that skin, needs to sink his teeth in after all of this teasing, and manages to suck in a breath as this time, his hands lift upwards, but still do not touch. 

“You’re shameless,” he states and to his surprise Akira blushes, the first time tonight Goro’s managed to get the upper hand. 

“Your fault, really,” Akira says, in a much softer voice, and Goro is once again reminded of how gloriously odd but enticing this whole situation is. 

Akira slides down into his lap and Goro groans, the pressure on his cock after so long a tease on the edge of frustration. Akira laughs, and leans forward breathing against his lips. 

“Alright, seeing as you’ve been so good, you can touch me,” he says, and Goro exhales into the praise and drags Akira’s head down for a kiss. 

It’s messy now, almost no rhythm at all, and Goro is at least glad he’s not the only one clearly starting to lose composure with how Akira starts grinding down every so slightly. He moves his hands to Akira’s shoulders, ends up drawing his nails slightly down Akira’s back, partly by accident, and Akira gasps, leaning upwards. 

“Bitey and scratchy,” he comments, and Goro smirks, taking in just how blown his pupils are. 

“Something tells me you quite like that though,” he says, and Akira doesn’t deny it, that pretty colour in his cheeks spreading. 

Instead he leans down and starts pressing some of those maddeningly soft kisses up Goro’s throat, and he retaliates but purposely drawing his nails up Akira’s back, careful at this point not to break the skin. Akira shudders against him, pushing his hips downwards and Goro moans quietly, head tipping back against the couch, just giving into how good this feels. 

As he does, the kisses abruptly end, and Akira sits up again. 

“Do you have to keep stopping like that?” he snaps, and Akira smiles, this time more like the smiles Goro’s seen when Akira looks at him. It makes his stomach flip in this situation. 

“I just think you’d be more comfortable in my bed,” he says, winking and getting off Goro’s lap. 

“Presumptuous, but I suppose the couch isn’t that comfortable,” he says, which is a lie in itself as he was perfectly fine there until the suggestion of a bed was brought up and well. That is preferable. 

Walking is not comfortable, but he manages it with some sort of dignity as Akira takes his hand of all things, and leads him to one of the closed doors, flicking on the light as he goes inside. The room, or as much as Goro can see, is neat if a little cluttered, but he doesn’t have time to take in the details, as Akira spins around and once again lifts him up before dropping him on the bed. 

“Akira, stop throwing me around like a ragdoll and-why are you closing the door?” he says as Akira comes back to the bed. 

“Cat,” he says and Goro blinks. 

“Your cat seeing us is something you’re concerned about,” he says, and probably would have made it sound more scathing if not for the fact Akira is suddenly looming over him. 

Goro leans back against the pillow almost unbidden and Akira smiles as if pleased, going with him until he’s bracketing Goro in, whose breathing has escalated. He’s not sure if it’s from the positions or the expression, but it doesn’t matter much when Akira starts unbuttoning his shirt, leaning forward to place kisses on his chest with every piece of skin exposed. 

Goro doesn’t know what to do with his hands, the urgent need to touch, hold and grab filtering through, until Akira finally lowers his weight fully onto him, and at the same time his thumb circles his right nipple. 

“Akira,” he hisses, voice too breathy for his own liking as he bucks into him. He’s not normally this sensitive but the light touches have his skin on fire, and he moans, hands finally deciding to settle in Akira’s hair as his mouth drags onto the same nipple. 

Goro moans and thrusts upwards, Akira’s mouth only staying still for a few moments before he moves across his skin, small nips tasting as he goes before he reaches the other nipple. This time, Goro is more accustomed to the sensation, letting out a simple hum of pleasure and his grip tightens instinctively on Akira’s hair.

He gasps, and Goro grins to himself, pulling on Akira’s hair again, slightly harder, and is rewarded with his boyfriend grinding down hard on his cock. Akira though, leans up, looking unimpressed as Goro smirks at him. 

“You’re easy to read,” he says, and Akira raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t counter the statement, instead leaning up and kissing Goro once more, who pulls Akira to him, clutching at his back. 

“I’d say you were too, with how you’re clinging to me. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he says, and Goro’s breath just disperses, gone to the ether. 

Take care. What a notion. As if he’s in need of protection or wrapping in tissue paper against the world. Care. He’s given up on that idea in many ways, but right now in this moment, as Akira frowns and moves to cup his cheek, the horizon opens to potential. 

It should be scary. It is scary, but more because Goro believes him. 

Whatever face he’s making it’s giving Akira hesitation, and Goro is not about to ruin this evening with getting lost in his own head, so brings an arm up around Akira’s neck, bringing him down to rest their hips together. 

“I think I may be wearing too many clothes for that,” he says with a deliberate sigh and Akira blinks at him. 

“Would you like me to rid you of them?” Akira says, tone part mocking with a genuine hint of eagerness, and Goro is thankful for years of TV appearance that he can feign disinterest. 

“If you could,” he says, gesturing with one hand and Akira shakes his head. 

“You’re a menace,” he whispers in Goro’s ear, then gets off him, which Goro does not enjoy but of course is a necessity. Akira however, goes to his nightstand, and grabs a bottle which makes Goro smile. 

“It seems like you have yet another plan,” he says as he sits up, and Akira sits on the bed next to him. 

“Many, actually. But I’d like to hear what you think,” he says, and it’s Goro’s turn to frown as Akira puts the lube on the bed, reaching out and carefully pushing the shirt from his shoulders. 

He leans forward and kisses the exposed skin of Goro’s shoulder, then gently urges him back down as his hand follows down his torso, a little lightning trail to the top of his pants, and then stays glancing upwards. Goro nods, oddly touched and Akira doesn’t waste any more time, just undoes the button and starts pulling his pants downwards. 

Goro bites his lip, the sudden throb of his cock making his arousal known, causing him to let out a slight gasp at the way his senses suddenly recall just how turned on he is. He feels Akira glance up, although their eyes do not lock, and a sharp tug has his pants and underwear off past his hips. Clearly, Akira is done waiting. 

He lifts up enough to aid, and Akira pulls the rest of his clothes off, the usual slight awkwardness of having to remove pants fumbling them a little, and then Goro is suddenly extremely aware that he’s practically naked except for the shirt still clinging to his arms, while Akira sits back, surveying, still only with his shirt gone. 

Akira’s eyes meet his and he smirks, Goro’s eyes narrowing as the temperature appears to skyrocket despite the fact he’s just removed clothing. He aches, too little stimulation where he needs, skin still a livewire about to trip from the touches, and Akira leans over.

“Ready to let go for me?” he murmurs against Goro’s lips and he shudders, tipping his head up, trying to get to a kiss, but Akira moves away, going back to his neck. 

“Akira,” he moans in pure frustration, hips rising as his cock just sits hard against his stomach, feeling more obscene than anything he’s previously done with how Akira is still not touching him, not covering him. 

“Hmm, what do you want?” he asks, and Goro lifts a hand to pull at his hair, Akira moaning and drawing closer, yet still not close enough. 

“Touch me!” he demands, and Akira looks up, Goro’s hand still on his hair. 

“That’s better,” he says, and Goro hates how that makes him flush, barely praise at this point, but enough to start him spiralling. 

Akira though, stands and starts undressing himself, a quick fair rather than his earlier performance, and this is somehow worse. As soon as he’s done, Goro sits up himself and yanks on Akira’s arm, who yelps as he almost falls over him. 

“Get back here now,” Goro says, and he’s not sure if he pulls or Akira leans, but either way they're kissing. 

It’s more intense now, Goro’s patience running thin. He feels desperate for attention, any attention in touch and taste that he doesn’t even know if this kiss is meeting lips or skin. Akira groans into it though, which is enough, and somehow manages to get Goro laying back down on the bed. 

“Akira, I swear to god,” Goro says, just under a shout as he pulls away, but this time he’s holding the lube. 

With his other hand he moves to cup Goro’s cheek again, a small caress that’s gone before it even registers, smiling in that sweet way. 

“I know, I know. I’m here. Are you always this impatient?” he says, as he tips over the bottle. 

“Are you always this tortuous,” he bites back and Akira leans forward, one hand wet. 

“I’m just taking my time with you,” he says, and Goro would like to say something cutting in response, but Akira finally grips his cock, and all else falls away. 

It’s not a relief, but he arches up into it, the sensation all he wants as his eyes close and his legs splay open, Akira moving into his space automatically. 

“That’s it, just like that,” Akira whispers in his ear and he shakes a little, hips lifting at the touch, firm but slow, infuriatingly slow as Akira continues to take his time. 

It’s bliss though; on the edge of annoyance but the right amount of grip that has his body humming, arching towards Akira who is now completely covering him, He grips onto his back, holds hard, and feels Akira’s breath hitch whenever he scrabbles at a particularly good angle. He’s thrusting into Akira’s grip now, who’s moving against his thigh slightly. He almost wants to taunt him, for rutting against him like that but he can't; everything feels so good as Akira keeps a steady pace. 

It won’t ever be enough though, and Goro groans, opening his eyes and seeing Akira’s gaze meet his own. He swallows hard then, cock pulsing in Akira’s grip who thumbs the head and makes him gasp as he watches. Akira looks incredible; eyes a shade further towards black, hair a mess where he’s been pulling it, cheeks stained with exertion. 

Goro can't help it, leans up and captures his lips, Akira humming into the kiss and responding, giving him another point of contact and he burns with the want to go higher, get more, seep into Akira’s skin and just ride out these waves for as long as they’ll go. But it’s not enough, not nearly enough. 

“Touch me,” he says breaking away, and Akira smiles, slow and steady. 

“I am, honey,” he says and as if to prove so slides his hand upwards, tight and brutal, making Goro gasps. 

“No-fuck I mean, finger me,” he says, feeling the words oddly stick despite the fact it’s not by far the worst thing that he’s said in bed. 

Akira’s eyes widen for a second, but his hand moves, their positions adjusting so Goro can lift his hips more. At the first circling of the tip of Akira’s finger against his hole he moans, loud, and feels his cock drip, the gentle push that follows causing him to cry out. 

“Goro, you feel so good,” Akira whispers as one finger sinks in and Goro moans again, closing his eyes this time. 

As he does, Akira goes back to kissing him, deeply this time as he starts moving his finger slowly, in and out, as his tongue circles in Goro’s mouth. It’s delicious, and he gasps for air when Akira lets him, the initial stretch not a pain but some discomfort, easing up within a few moments as Akira goes back to his neck, clearly a place he revels in covering. 

Goro lifts his hips, the push of the finger moving him closer, getting him closer to where he needs to be. Akira’s muttering something in his ear, encouragement of some sort and with that his hips move in time with Akira’s finger. 

“That’s it, you’re ready for more,” Akira says, and that’s all the warning Goro gets before a second finger joins, and he arches off the bed with a cry. 

“Fuck, look at you, that’s it, you’re doing so well,” Akira says and Goro’s back bends at the praise, pulse beating in his ears as his boyfriend scissors his fingers, each touch escalating to simmering to a boil. 

He needs more now. He rakes his fingers down Akira’s back, who hisses and jerks against him, and Goro opens his eyes and his hands drop down, one to Akira’s cheek, who looks into his eyes then, the other onto his shoulder. His hair’s fallen over his eyes, and Goro gets a sudden image of how he’ll look like fucking him like this and his breath punches out of him. 

“Left...a little higher..fuck, close that’s-” he cuts off a scream as Akira finds his prostate and Akira moans into his ear. 

“I’ve got you, fuck you’re amazing like this,” he says and Goro actually whines as his body ignites, Akira’s fingers working him again before receding, but he’s almost there now, taunt and on edge, Akira all around him and inside him. 

“Close,” he says, although it’s barely a whisper, but Akira hears, mouth parting silently for a second, then he inhales sharply. 

“You can come like this?” he asks, and Goro nods, almost frantically because he can and he will if Akira just keeps touching him like that, not backing away. 

“Fuck, I’m here, honey, show me, show me what you can do,” he says, dropping his forehead to Goro’s and he gasps as those words spark just like a touch, needing to comply, to show Akira exactly what he can do. 

Akira’s fingers start pounding relentlessly, Goro’s body moving with every action, climbing higher until he thrusts against his prostate and Goro comes with a shout. Akira kisses the cry, keeps his fingers moving as he shakes himself through, everything fading out except the feeling, letting go and falling away for a few moments. 

Akira lets him breathe, and he squirms away from the fingers now causing too much overstimulation, whining a little when they’re removed. He opens his eyes and Akira’s still there, smiling and clearly pleased with himself. 

He can feel himself sinking under the heaviness of his limbs, but he reaches out, hands still shaking a little. 

“Your turn,” he demands, and Akira’s smile grows, slowly coming down to lie beside him. Goro forces himself to face Akira, and seeing as he’s not about to start searching for lube, brings his own hand to his mouth and licks, locking eyes with Akira. 

Akira’s eyes follow the motion, breathing picking up, and Goro spends a bit more time than is necessary before he reaches out and strokes him. Akira moans instantly, and Goro smirks to himself, feeling his cock immediately spill pre-come as he strokes, picking a rapid pace that has Akira gasping, body inching closer. 

“So easy to read, fast and hard,” Goro whispers, and Akira moans, pulling him closer and dragging him into a kiss. 

He knows Akira is close from how messy and loud it is, feels a triumph that he can reduce Akira to this so quickly, barely touching him. So he breaks the kiss, Akira making an almost adorable sound of protest, only for Goro to lean into his neck and give into the urge he’s had since he first saw Akira on stage. 

He bites, and to his surprise, Akira swears and tenses, coming just one stroke later with a groan as Goro laves the wound with his tongue and presses sweet kisses to the area. 

“You really do like to bite, that’s going to mark,” Akira mutters, and throws a hand over his eyes as he flops down onto the bed, hand over his eyes. 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” Goro says, lip curling in disgust at the mess on his hand, the sudden awareness that he’s extremely disgusting making him crave a shower. 

“I did. Come here,” Akira says, except he doesn’t wait for an answer, just draws Goro closer, wrapping an arm around him. 

Goro is stunned for a second as Akira smiles, tired but content, then pushes Goro’s hair back from his face. He snuggles forward, resting their foreheads together, keeping his hand resting in Goro’s hair, thumbing his ear soothingly. Goro finds his eyes closing, the closeness a soothing balm he didn’t know he needed. He wants a shower, desperately needs to change and not stay lying in their mess. 

In a minute. Just a minute. He can stay like this, wrapped up in Akira, for a little longer first. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the support! For fic updates and more rambling, I'm on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 coming very soon. In the meantime, find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)


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